.:;-. '^f 


LIBRARY 

IHftWERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


UNCLE  TERRY 

A  STORY  OF   THE  MAINE   COAST 


UNCLE   TERRY 


A  Story  of  the  Maine  Coast 


BY 
CHARLES    CLARK   MUNN 

Author  of  «'  Pocket  Island  " 


ILLUSTRATED    BY   HELENA    HIGGINBOTHAM 


BOSTON 
LEE    AND     SHEPARD 

M  C  M 


I 

ONIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


COPYRIGHT,  1900,  BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD 


All  rights  reserved 


UNCLE  TERRY 


anir 

BOSTON,    U.S.A. 


ZTo 


THOSE  WHO  LOVE  TO  WANDER  OVER  GREEN  MEADOWS, 

ALONG  MIRTHFUL  BROOKS, 

OR  BENEATH  FOREST  TREES  WHERE  THE  BIRDS 
DWELL,  OR  FIND  CONTENT  ON  LONELY 
SHORES  AND  MUSIC  IN  THE 
OCEAN'S  VOICE, 


boofc  i&  respectfullg  fcetri 
BY  THE  AUTHOR 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     A  WAIF  OF  THE  SEA 1 

II.     UNCLE  TERRY 9 

III.  Two  ORPHANS 15 

IV.  A  SPIDER  IN  His  DEN 26 

V.     WAYS  THAT  ARE  DARK 37 

VI.     A  PUSH  DOWNWARD 43 

VII.     A  SERMON 50 

VIII.     A  HELPING  HAND 57 

IX.     SHARP  PRACTICE 65 

X.  AMID  THE  GREEN  MOUNTAINS     .     .  73 

XI.     BY  THE  FIRESIDE 80 

XII.  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMA'AM       ...  89 

XIII.  SOUTHPORT  ISLAND     ......  101 

XIV.  A  LEGALIZED  PICKPOCKET  ....  109 
XV.  THE  VALUE  OF  GOOD  EXAMPLE  .     .  117 

XVI.     SWEET  ALICE 124 

XVII.  A  BY-WAY  SCHOOLHOUSE    ....  131 

XVIII.  VILLAGE  GOSSIP      .     .     ,     f    .  fc.     .  143 

XIX.     PLOTS  AND  PLANS 152 

XX.     A  PAIR  OF  BLUE  EYES 163 

XXI.  A  NEW  CLIENT  171 


IV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.  UNCLE  TERRY'S  GUEST 180 

XXIII.  A  STRANGE  STORY 188 

XXIV.  A  WHISPER  OF  THE  OCEAN     .     .     .  196 
XXV.  THE  «  GYPSY  "  EETURNS     ....  212 

XXVI.  THE  MISER  IN  His  DEN      ....  220 

XXVII.  IN  SHADY  WOODS 225 

XXVIII.  WHERE  THE  LILIES  GROW  ....  235 

XXIX.  A  FRIEND  AT  COURT 244 

XXX.  NEMESIS    ..........  250 

XXXI.  THE  GLAD  HAND 259 

XXXII.  THE  DEMNITION  GRIND 268 

XXXIII.  OLD  AND  YOUNG 274 

XXXIV.  FIRELIGHT  FLASHES 279 

XXXV.  THE  "  WIDDER  "  LEACH       .....  294 

XXXVI.  A  NAMELESS  COVE 305 

XXXVII.  AMID  FALLING  LEAVES 314 

XXXVIII.  THE  OLD  SONGS 326 

XXXIX.  SOCIETY     .     .     ,     .     .     .     ....    *  335 

XL.  «  YES  OR  No  " 344 

XLI.  AN  HEIRESS 353 

XLII.  THE  PATHOS  OF  LIFE  363 


UNCLE    TERRY 

A  STORY   OF  THE   MAINE   COAST 


CHAPTER   I 

A   WAIF   OF    THE    SEA 

"  IT'S  goin'  to  be  a  nasty  night,"  said  Uncle  Terry, 
coming  in  from  the  shed  and  dumping  an  armful  of 
wood  in  the  box  behind  the  kitchen  stove,  "  an'  the 
combers  is  just  a-humpin'  over  White  Hoss  Ledge, 
an'  the  spray's  flyin'  half  way  up  the  lighthouse." 

"  The  Lord-a-massy  help  any  poor  soul  that  goes 
ashore  to-night,"  responded  a  portly,  white-haired 
woman  beside  the  stove,  as  a  monster  wave  made  the 
little  dwelling  tremble. 

Uncle  Terry  took  off  his  dripping  sou'wester  and 
coat,  and,  hanging  them  over  the  wood  box,  went 
to  the  sink  and  began  pumping  a  basin  of  water. 

"  Better  have  some  warm,  Silas,"  said  the  woman, 
taking  the  steaming  kettle  from  the  stove  and  follow 
ing  him ;  "  it's  more  comfortin'." 

When  he  had  washed,  and  combed  his  scanty  gray 


2  UNCLE   TEKKY 

locks  and  beard  at  a  small  mirror,  he  stood  for  a 
moment  beside  the  stove.  His  weather-beaten  face 
that  evinced  character,  so  pronounced  were  its  feat 
ures,  wore  a  smile,  and  his  deep-set  gray  eyes  emitted 
a  twinkle. 

"Supper  'most  ready,  Lissy?"  he  asked,  eyeing  a 
pot  on  the  stove  that  gave  out  an  appetizing  odor. 
"  I'm  hungry  'nough  to  eat  a  mule  with  the  harness 
on!" 

"  'Twill  be  in  a  minit,"  was  the  reply.  "  Better 
go  into  t'other  room  where  Telly's  settin'  the  table." 

Uncle  Terry  obeyed,  and,  finding  a  bright  fire 
burning  there,  stood  back  to  it,  smiling  affectionately 
at  a  young  girl  busy  beside  the  table.  She  had  an 
oval  face,  a  rather  thin  and  delicate  nose,  small  sweet 
mouth,  and  eyes  that  were  big,  blue,  and  appealing. 
A  wealth  of  light  hair  was  coiled  on  the  back  of 
her  head,  and  her  form  was  full  and  rounded. 

"  It's  blowing  hard  to-night,  father,  isn't  it  ?  "  she 
observed.  "  I  can  feel  the  waves  shake  the  house." 
Then,  not  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  stepped  to  a 
closet,  and  bringing  a  short  gray  coat  and  felt  slippers, 
pushed  an  armchair  to  the  fire,  and  placing  the  slip 
pers  beside  it,  held  the  coat  ready  for  him  to  put  it  on. 

"  You  might  as  well  be  comfortable,"  she  added ; 
"  you  haven't  got  to  go  out  again,  have  you  ?  " 


A  WAIF   OF   THE   SEA  3 

The  man  seated  himself,  and  drawing  off  his  wet 
boots  and  putting  on  his  slippers,  opened  his  hands 
toward  the  blaze  and  observed :  "  You  and  Lissy's 
bound  to  cosset  me,  so  bimeby  I  won't  stir  out  'cept 
the  sun  shines." 

Silas  Terry,  or  Uncle  Terry,  as  everybody  on 
Southport  Island  called  him,  was,  and  for  thirty 
years  had  been,  the  keeper  of  "  The  Cape "  light, 
situated  on  the  outermost  point  of  the  island.  To 
this  he  added  the  daily  duty  of  mail  carrier  to  the  head 
of  the  island,  eight  miles  distant,  and  there  connect 
ing  with  a  small  steamer  plying  between  the  Maine 
coast  islands  and  a  shore  port.  He  also,  in  common 
with  other  of  the  islanders,  tilled  a  little  land  and 
kept  a  few  traps  set  for  lobsters.  He  was  an  honest, 
kind-hearted,  and  fairly  well-read  man,  whose  odd 
sayings  and  quaint  phrases  were  proverbial.  With 
his  wife,  whom  everybody  called  Aunt  Lissy,  and 
adopted  daughter  Telly,  he  lived  in  a  neat  white 
house  close  to  the  Cape  light  and,  as  he  put  it,  "  his 
latch-string  was  allus  out." 

Uncle  Terry  had  a  history,  and  not  the  least  inter 
esting  episode  in  it  was  the  entrance  into  his  life  of 
this  same  fair  and  blue-eyed  girl.  Perhaps  his  own 
graphic  description  will  best  tell  the  tale : 

"  It  was  'bout  the  last  o'  March,  nigh  onto  eighteen 


4  UNCLE   TERRY 

year  ago,  and  durin'  one  o'  the  worst  blows  I  ever 
rec'clect  since  I  kep'  the  light,  that  one  mornin'  I 
spied  a  vessel  hard  an'  fast  on  White  Hoss  Ledge, 
'bout  half  a  mile  off  the  pint.  It  had  been  snowin' 
some  an'  froze  on  the  windows  o'  the  light,  so  mebbe 
she  didn't  see  it  'fore  she  fetched  up  all  standin'. 
The  seas  was  poundin'  her  like  great  guns,  an'  in  her 
riggin'  I  could  see  the  poor  devils  half  hid  in  snow 
an'  ice.  Thar  wa'n't  no  hope  for  'em,  for  no  dory 
could  'a'  lived  a  moment  in  that  awful  gale,  and  thar 
wa'n't  no  lifeboat  here.  Lissy  an'  me  made  haste  to 
build  a  fire  on  the  pint,  to  show  the  poor  critturs  we 
had  f eelin'  for  'em,  an'  then  we  just  stood  an'  waited  an' 
watched  for  'em  to  go  down.  It  might  'a'  been  an  hour, 
there's  no  tellin',  when  I  saw  a  big  bundle  tossin'  light, 
an'  comin'  ashore.  I  ran  over  to  the  cove  where  I  keep 
my  boats,  and  grabbed  a  piece  o'  rope  an'  boat  hook, 
and  made  ready.  The  Lord  must  'a'  steered  that 
bundle,  for  it  kept  workin'  along,  headin'  for  a  bit  o' 
beach  just  by  the  pint.  I  had  a  rope  round  my  waist, 
an'  Lissy  held  onto  the  end,  an'  when  the  bundle 
struck  I  made  fast  with  the  boat  hook  and  the  next 
comber  tumbled  me  end  over,  bundle  an'  all,  up  onto 
the  sand.  I  grabbed  at  it,  an'  'fore  the  next  one  come, 
had  it  high  an'  dry  out  o'  the  way. 

"  It's  allus  been  a  puzzle  to  me  just  why  I  did  it,  for 


A    WAIF    OF    THE    SEA  5 

I  was  wet  through  an'  most  froze,  an'  what  I'd  pulled 
out  looked  like  a  feather  bed  tied  round  with  a  cord, 
but  I  out  with  my  knife  an'  cut  the  cords,  an'  thar  in 
the  middle  o'  two  feather  beds  was  a  box,  an'  in  the 
box  a  baby  alive  an'  squallin' ! 

"  I  didn't  stop  to  take  the  rope  off  my  waist,  but 
grabbed  the  box  an'  ran  for  the  house  with  Lissy  after 
me.  We  had  a  fire  in  the  stove,  an'  Lissy  warmed  a 
blanket  and  wrapped  the  poor  thing  up  an'  held  it 
over  the  stove  an'  kissed  it  and  took  on  just  as  wim- 
min  will.  When  I  see  it  was  safe  I  cut  for  the  pint, 
thinkin'  to  wave  my  hat  an'  show  'em  we  had  saved 
the  baby,  but  a  squall  o'  snow  had  struck  in  an'  when 
it  let  up  the  vessel  was  gone.  Thar  was  bits  o'  wreck 
cum  ashore,  pieces  o'  spars,  a  boat  all  stove  in,  an'  the 
like,  an'  a  wooden  shoe.  In  the  box  the  baby  was  in 
was  two  little  blankets,  an',  tied  in  a  bit  o'  cloth,  two 
rings  an'  a  locket  with  two  picters  in  it,  an'  a  paper 
was  pinned  to  the  baby's  clothes  with  furrin  writin'  on 
it.  It  said  the  baby's  name  was  Etelka  Peterson,  an' 
'  To  God  I  commend  my  child,'  an'  signed,  '  A  de- 
spairin'  mother.'  From  bits  o'  the  wreck  we  learned 
the  vessel  was  from  Stockholm,  an'  named  '  Peterson.' 

"  The  paper  was  sech  a  heart-techin'  appeal,  an'  as 
we'd  just  buried  our  only  child,  a  six-year-old  gal, 
we  was  glad  to  adopt  this  'un  an'  bring  her  up.  In 


6  UNCLE   TERRY 

due  course  o'  time  I  made  a  report  o'  the  wreck  to 
the  Lighthouse  Board,  an'  that  we  had  saved  one  life, 
a  gal  baby,  an'  give  all  the  facts.  Nothin'  ever  came 
on't,  though,  an'  we  was  glad  thar  didn't.  We  kep' 
the  little  gal,  an'  she  wa'n't  long  in  growin'  into  our 
feelin's,  an'  the  older  she  growed,  the  more  we 
thought  o'  her." 

Of  course  the  history  of  Uncle  Terry's  protegee 
was  known  to  every  resident  of  the  island,  and  as  she 
grew  into  girlhood  and  attended  school  at  the  Cape  — 
as  the  little  village  a  quarter  mile  back  of  the  point 
was  called  —  until  she  matured  into  a  young  lady, 
every  one  came  to  feel  that,  in  a  way,  she  belonged 
to  the  kindly  lighthouse  keeper  and  his  wife  Me 
lissa. 

To  them  she  was  all  that  a  devoted  daughter  could 
be,  and  when  school  days  were  over  she  became  Uncle 
Terry's  almost  constant  companion.  On  pleasant 
days  she  went  with  him  to  attend  his  traps,  and  on 
his  daily  drive  to  the  head  of  the  island.  She  was 
welcome  in  every  house  and  well  beloved  by  all  those 
simple,  kindly  people,  who  felt  an  unusual  interest  in 
her  existence.  Of  tender  heart  and  timid  nature,  her 
appealing  eyes  won  the  love  of  young  and  old.  On 
Sunday  evenings  she  was  always  one  of  the  small 
congregation  that  gathered  to  hold  simple  services 


UNCLE  TERRY  AND  TELLY 


A   WAIF   OF   THE   SEA  7 

in  the  little  church  at  the  Cape  —  a  square  one-story 
building  that  never  knew  paint  or  shutters. 

Of  beaux  she  hardly  knew  the  meaning,  and  it 
must  be  said  the  few  young  men  who  remained  on 
the  island  after  reaching  the  age  of  courtship  were 
neither  in  garb  nor  manners  such  as  would  attract  a 
girl  like  Telly. 

One  special  talent  she  was  gifted  with  and  that  the 
ability  to  draw  and  paint  well.  Even  as  a  child  at 
school  she  would  draw  pictures  on  a  slate  that  were 
surprising,  and  when  older,  and  she  obtained  materi 
als,  she  worked  until  she  became,  in  a  way,  quite  an 
artist.  As  Uncle  Terry  put  it,  "  Makin'  picters  comes 
nat'rl  to  the  gal." 

She  had  never  received  even  the  first  lessons  in 
that  charming  art,  but  for  all  that  every  room  in  the 
house  had  dozens  of  her  efforts,  large  and  small,  hang 
ing  on  the  walls,  and  in  the  oddest  frames.  Some 
were  of  strips  of  thin  board  covered  with  little  shells 
or  dried  moss,  and  others  of  rustic  handiwork  and 
mounted  with  fir  cones. 

There  was  but  one  shadow  in  her  life  and  that  the 
fact  that  no  one  of  the  relatives  she  imagined  she 
must  have  in  far-off  Sweden  ever  made  any  effort  to 
learn  the  fate  of  her  parents,  who  she  knew  had  gone 
down  so  near  her  home.  The  story  of  her  rescue  with 


8  UNCLE    TERRY 

all  its  pitiful  details  was  familiar  to  her  and  in  her 
room  were  treasured  all  the  odd  bits  of  wreckage  :  the 
locket  that  contained  her  parents'  pictures  ;  the  two 
rings ;  the  last  message  of  her  mother ;  and  even  the 
wooden  shoe  that  had  floated  ashore.  How  many 
times  she  had  looked  at  those  two  pictured  faces,  one 
a  reflection  of  her  own,  how  many  tears  she  had  shed 
in  secret  over  them,  and  how,  year  after  year,  she 
wondered  if  ever  in  her  life  some  relative  would  be 
known  to  her,  no  one,  not  even  her  foster-parents,  ever 
knew.  Neither  did  they  know  how  many  times  she 
had  tried  to  imagine  the  moment  when  her  despairing 
mother,  with  death  near,  and  with  prayers  and  tears, 
had  cast  her  adrift,  hoping  that  the  one'  little  life 
most  dear  to  that  mother  might  be  saved.  The  fatal 
reef  where  those  parents  had  gone  down  also  held  for 
her  a  weird  fascination,  and  at  times  the  voice  of  the 
ocean  seemed  like  the  despairing  cries  of  mortals. 
One  picture,  and  it  was  her  best,  was  a  view  of  the 
wreck,  as  near  as  Uncle  Terry  could  describe  it,  with 
human  forms  clinging  to  the  ice-clad  rigging  and 
tempestuous  seas  leaping  over  them.  The  subject 
held  an  uncanny  influence  over  her,  and  she  had  spent 
months  on  the  picture.  But  this  shadow  of  her  life 
she  kept  carefully  guarded  from  all. 


CHAPTER   II 

UNCLE   TERRY 

"  I  WA'N'T  consulted  'bout  comin'  into  this  world," 
said  Uncle  Terry  once,  "  an'  I  don't  'spect  to  be  'bout 
goin'  out.  I  was  born  on  a  wayback  farm  in  Connect 
icut,  where  the  rocks  was  so  thick  we  used  ter  round 
the  sheep  up  once  a  week  an'  sharpen  thar  noses  on 
the  grin'stun,  so't  they  could  get  'em  'tween  the  stuns. 
I  walked  a  mile  to  school  winters,  an'  stubbed  my  toes 
on  the  farm  summers,  till  I  was  fourteen,  an'  then  the 
old  man  'greed  to  give  me  my  time  till  I  was  twenty- 
one  if  I  'ud  pay  him  half  I  earned.  I  had  a  colt  an' 
old  busted  wagon,  an'  I  took  to  dickerin'.  I  bought 
eggs  an'  honey  an'  pelts  of  all  sorts,  an'  peddled  no 
tions  an'  farmin'  tools.  When  I  cum  of  age  I  went  to 
the  city  an'  turned  trader  an'  made  a  little  money ; 
got  married  an'  cum  down  into  Maine  an'  bought  a 
gold  mine.  I've  got  it  yit!  That  is,  I've  got  the 
hole  whar  I  s'posed  the  mine  was.  Most  o'  my  money 
went  into  it  an'  stayed  thar.  Then  I  got  a  chance  to 
tend  light  and  ketch  lobsters,  an'  hev  stuck  to  it  ever 


10  UNCLE    TERRY 

since.  I  take  some  comfort  livin'  and  try  an'  pass  it 
along.  The  widcler  Leach  calls  me  a  scoffer,  but  she 
allus  conies  to  me  when  she's  needin',  an'  don't  allus 
have  to  cum,  either.  My  life's  been  like  most  every 
body  else's  —  a  streak  o'  lean  an'  a  streak  o'  fat,  with 
lean  predominatin'.  'Twas  a  streak  o'  fat  when  I 
found  a  good  woman  an'  she  said  '  yes,'  an'  a  streak  o' 
lean  when  I  was  bamboozled  by  a  lawyer  into  buyiii' 
a  gold  mine.  I've  kep'  that  hole  ever  since  an'  paid 
taxes  on't,  to  prove  to  myself  jest  how  big  a  fool  a 
man  can  be  an'  live. 

"  I've  never  wronged  nobody,  nor  done  much  prayin', 
an'  when  the  Almighty  calls  me  I  think  I'll  stand 
jest  as  good  a  chance  o'  gittin'  a  harp  as  those  who's 
done  more  on't.  The  w^orst  skinnin'  I  ever  got  was 
done  by  this  ere  lawyer  who  never  sot  down  to  meals 
'thout  askin'  a  blessin',  an'  mebbe  that's  the  reason 
I'm  a  scoffer.  I've  observed  a  good  deal  since  I  left 
the  old  farm,  an'  have  come  to  the  belief  that  thar's  a 
sucker  born  every  minit  and  two  ter  ketch  him. 
When  I  was  young  I  took  hold  o'  the  big  end  o'  the 
log  an'  did  the  liftin' ;  but  now  I  take  hold  o'  the 
little  end  an'  do  the  gruntin' !  Thar's  one  thing  I've 
larned,  and  larned  it  for  sartin,  an'  that  is,  thar's  dum 
few  people  in  this  world  that  cut  a  ham  in  the  mid 
dle.  Most  on  'em  cut  few  slices  an'  cut  'em  thin." 


UNCLE  TERKY  11 


Among  the  Southport  islanders  Uncle  Terry  was 
considered  an  odd  stick,  and  yet  one  who  would  go 
out  of  his  way  to  do  a  good  turn  to  others.  He  was 
seldom  seen  at  church,  though  his  wife  and  Telly 
usually  were.  As  he  once  remarked:  "It's  a  good 
thing  for  'em,  'cause  it  takes  up  thar  mind  an'  is  more 
sociable,  tho'  prayin'  allus  seems  to  me  a  good  deal 
like  a  man  tryin'  to  lift  himself  by  his  boot-straps.  It 
keeps  him  busy,  tho',  an'  it's  healthy  exercise." 

In  spite  of  his  investment  in  a  mine,  he  had  been 
frugal  and  owned  most  of  the  land  between  the  vil 
lage  and  the  point,  and  was  also  joint  owner,  with  two 
other  men,  in  a  small  trading-schooner  that  made 
semi-monthly  trips  between  the  Cape  and  Boston. 
She  carried  fish,  clams,  lobsters,  hay,  and  potatoes,  and 
fetched  an  "  all  sorts  "  cargo  useful  to  the  islanders, 
from  a  paper  of  needles  to  a  hogshead  of  molasses. 

The  most  pronounced  characteristic  of  Uncle  Terry 
was  his  unfailing  good  humor,  tinged  with  a  mild 
sarcasm.  He  loved  his  fellow-men,  and  yet  enjoyed 
puncturing  their  small  conceits,  but  so  droll  was  his 
way  of  doing  it  that  no  one  felt  the  sting.  To  Bascom, 
who  kept  the  only  store,  and  also  post-office,  at  the 
Cape,  and  dearly  loved  to  hear  himself  talk,  Uncle 
Terry  once  said  :  "  You've  got  the  greatest  gift  o'  gab 
I  ever  heerd,  Bascom,  and  you  could  'a'  made  your 


12  UNCLE  TEBBY 

fortin  in  the  show  business.  But  if  you're  ever  took 
with  religion,  the  hull  island'll  turn  in  fiddle." 

And  again :  when  Deacon  Oaks,  the  leader  at  all 
prayer-meetings,  assured  him  how  great  a  blessing 
religion  was,  and  how  much  he  enjoyed  divine  ser 
vice,  Uncle  Terry  answered :  "  Your  takin'  the  lead 
at  meetin's  is  a  blessin'  to  the  rest,  for  none  of  'em 
has  to  worry  'bout  who's  goin'  to  speak  next.  They 
know  you're  allus  ready." 

In  this  connection  it  must  be  stated  that  the  spirit 
ual  life  of  Southport  was  of  a  primitive  description. 
The  small  unpainted  church  at  the  Cape,  above  which 
hung  a  diminutive  bell,  was  the  only  place  of  wor 
ship,  and  to  this,  every  other  Sunday,  came  a  minister 
from  the  mainland.  It  was  furnished  with  long 
wooden  settees  and  a  small  cottage  organ  graced  the 
platform,  upon  which  an  antique  desk  did  duty  as 
pulpit  and  a  storage  place  for  hymn  books.  Four 
wall  bracket  lamps  lighted  this  room  for  evening 
service,  and  their  usually  smoky  chimneys  lent  a 
depressing  effect  to  all  exhortation.  "  Mandy  "  Oaks 
presided  at  the  organ  and  turned  gospel  hymns  into 
wheezy  and  rather  long-drawn-out  melodies.  Most 
of  the  audience  tried  to  chase  the  tunes  along  and 
imagined  they  were  singing,  which,  perhaps,  is  all 
that  is  necessary.  On  the  Sundays  between  the 


UNCLE   TERRY  13 

minister's  visits  only  evening  services  were  held,  and 
every  Thursday  evening  a  prayer-meeting.  It  was 
on  these  latter  occasions  that  Deacon  Oaks  was  in 
conspicuous  evidence.  The  Widow  Leach,  a  poor 
unfortunate  woman  who  had  seen  better  days,  and 
in  whose  poverty  stricken  life  religion  was  the  only 
consolation,  was  also  prominent ;  and  her  testimony, 
unvarying  in  tenor  as  the  tunes  played  by  Mandy, 
helped  to  fill  out  the  service. 

"  It's  lucky  the  widow's  sure  o'  lots  o'  happiness  in 
the  next  world,"  observed  Uncle  Terry  once,  "  for  she 
ain't  gittin'  much  in  this. 

"I  can't  hear  Oaks,  though,  'thout  thinkin'  o' 
Deacon  Rogers  up  in  Wolcott,  who  never  mentioned 
the  need  o'  rain  till  he'd  got  his  hay  in.  He  was  a 
sly  fox,  and  allus  thanked  the  Lord  for  sendin'  rain 
nights  an'  Sundays,  so  the  poor  hired  men  could 
rest. 

"  I  used  to  have  him  held  up  as  a  shinin'  example, 
but  he  opened  my  eyes  arter  I  began  dickerin'  by 
sellin'  me  a  lot  o'  eggs  that  had  been  sot  on  two 
weeks,  an'  the  storeman  I  sold  'em  to  never  trusted 
me  agin.  'Twas  a  case  o'  the  ungodly  sufferin'  for 
the  sins  o'  the  righteous  that  time,  which  may  be  a 
pervarsion  o'  Scrip tur,  but  the  truth,  just  the  same. 

"  But  I  got  a  little  comfort  finally,   for  when  the 


14  UNCLE  TEKRY 

Deacon  died,  by  some  inadvartance  the  choir  sang, 
4  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessin's  flow/  an'  I 
wa'n't  the  only  one  who  felt  that  way,  either." 

In  spite  of  Uncle  Terry's  mildly  flavored  shafts  of 
sarcasm,  he  made  no  enemies  and  his  kind  heart  and 
sterling  honesty  were  respected  far  and  near.  He 
was  considered  a  doubter  and  skeptic,  and  though 
seldom  seen  at  church,  as  he  had  originally  con 
tributed  his  share  when  that  edifice  was  built,  his 
lack  of  piety  was  forgiven. 

There  is  a  sense  of  justice  underlying  all  men's 
minds,  and  the  natural  instinct  is  to  judge  others  by 
what  they  are  and  how  they  live,  rather  than  by  what 
they  profess,  and  so  it  was  in  Uncle  Terry's  case. 
He  lived  truthfully,  obeyed  his  conscience,  observed 
the  Golden  Rule,  wronged  no  one,  and  as  with  many 
others  who  do  likewise,  he  had  a  right  to  feel  that  in 
the  final  balance  his  book  of  life  would  show  a  wide 
margin  on  the  credit  side. 


CHAPTER   III 

TWO   ORPHANS 

A  STRANGER  visiting  Sandgate  on  a  summer  after 
noon  would  inevitably  conclude  the  town  was  asleep. 
Often  not  a  person  would  be  visible  the  entire  length 
of  its  main  street,  cooled  by  three  rows  of  maples,  one 
dividing  it,  and  one  shading  each  of  the  two  sidewalks 
formed  of  narrow  strips  of  weather-stained  marble. 
Under  some  of  these  trees  that  almost  touch  branches 
for  half  a  mile  one  or  two  cows  might  be  grazing  or 
taking  a  siesta  while  chewing  the  cud  of  content.  On 
the  vine-hid  porch  of  the  village  tavern  landlord  Pell 
would  quite  likely  be  dozing  in  an  arm-chair  tilted 
back,  and  across  the  way  Mr.  Hobbs,  who  keeps  the 
one  general  store,  would  as  likely  be  napping  on  a 
counter,  his  head  pillowed  upon  a  pile  of  calico.  A 
little  further  up  the  street  and  near  the  one  tall-spired 
white  church  Mrs.  Mears,  the  village  gossip,  may  be 
sitting  on  the  veranda  of  a  small  house  almost  hid 
by  luxuriantly  growing  Norway  spruce,  and  idly  rock 
ing  while  she  chats  with  the  widow  Sloper,  who  lives 


16  UNCLE  TERRY 

there,  and  whose  mission  in  life  is  to  cut  and  fit  the 
best  "go  to  meetin'"  gowns  of  female  Sandgate. 
Both  dearly  love  to  talk  over  all  that's  going  on,  and 
whether  this  or  that  village  swain  is  paying  especial 
attention  to  any  one  rosy  cheeked  lass,  and  if  so 
"what's  likely  to  come  on't."  Both  mean  well  by 
this  neighborly  interest,  and  especially  does  Mrs. 
Sloper,  who  always  advises  plaits  for  stout  women, 
"  with  middlin'  fulness  in  the  bust "  for  thin  ones. 

One  or  two  men  may  be  at  work  haying  in  the 
broad  meadows  west  of  the  village,  through  which  the 
slow  current  of  a  small  river  twists  and  turns,  or  others 
wielding  hoes  on  a  hillside  field  of  corn  to  the  east, 
but  so  far  as  moving  life  in  the  village  street  goes 
there  will  be  none.  On  either  side  of  the  Sandgate 
valley  two  spurs  of  the  Green  Mountain  Range,  forest- 
clad,  stand  guard  as  if  to  isolate  from  all  the  world 
this  peaceful  dale,  whose  dwellers'  sole  ambition  in 
life  may  be  summed  up  in  —  to  plow,  plant,  reap,  and 
go  to  meeting. 

On  the  north  end  of  this  park-like  highway,  and  be 
yond  the  last  house,  it  narrows  to  an  ordinary  roadway 
and  divides.  One  fork  turns  to  the  right,  following 
up  the  banks  of  a  winding  stream  to  an  old  grist-mill 
with  moss-covered  wheel  and  lily-dotted  pond  above. 
The  other  turns  to  the  left,  crosses  the  narrow  Sand- 


TWO   ORPHANS  17 

gate  valley,  and  bears  south  past  the  Page  place.  If 
it  were  Sunday,  not  many  years  ago,  and  about  eleven 
in  the  morning,  a  stranger  passing  the  church  would 
have  heard  through  the  open  doors  and  windows  the 
exquisitely  sweet  voice  of  Alice  Page,  clear  as  a  bell 
and  melodious  as  a  bird's,  toying  and  trilling  through 
"  Coronation,"  or  some  other  easily  recognized  hymn ; 
and  had  that  stranger  awaited  the  close  of  service  he 
or  she  would  have  seen  among  the  congregation  filing 
out  one  petite  and  plump  little  lady,  with  flower-like 
face,  sparkling  blue  eyes,  and  kiss-inspiring  mouth, 
who  would  most  likely  have  walked  demurely  along 
with  her  big  brother  Albert,  and  turning  down  a  nar 
row  pathway,  follow  him  across  the  meadows,  over  a 
foot-bridge  that  spans  the  stream,  and  up  to  an  old- 
fashioned  elm-shaded  house. 

This  landmark,  known  far  and  wide  as  the  Page 
place,  is  historic.  Built  in  the  time  of  King  George, 
and  one  of  the  first  three  erected  in  Sandgate,  it  has 
withstood  the  storms  of  two  centuries  and  seen  many 
generations  of  Pages  come  and  go.  Additions  have 
been  made  to  it  —  an  ell  on  one  side,  larger  windows 
and  a  wide  veranda  in  front.  Inside  it  is  much  the 
same,  for  the  open  fireplaces  remain  in  parlor  and  sit 
ting-room  and  a  tall  clock  of  solemn  tick  stands  in 


18  UNCLE   TEKBY 

the  hall  where  it  stood  when  Paul  Revere  took  his 
famous  ride. 

The  last  owner,  Simeon  Page,  —  or,  as  he  was  called, 
Squire  Page,  —  joined  the  great  majority  two  years 
after  an  enterprising  railroad  crept  up  the  Sandgate 
valley.  He  had  bitterly  opposed  its  entrance  into  the 
town  and  it  was  asserted  that  chagrin  at  his  defeat 
hastened  his  death.  His  widow,  with  their  two  chil 
dren,  Albert  and  Alice,  and  a  widowed  sister,  remained 
and  with  the  aid  of  hired  men  managed  the  farm. 
But  bushes  began  to  choke  the  pastures  and  meadows ; 
the  outbuildings  grew  shabby ;  the  house  received  no 
paint;  and  as  the  children  grew  up  and  needs  in 
creased,  one  by  one  the  broad  fields  were  sold.  It 
had  been  the  squire's  ambition  that  his  only  son 
should  become  a  professional  man,  and  carrying  out 
his  wishes,  Albert's  mother  had  pinched  and  saved, 
denying  herself  all  luxuries,  and  given  him  a  collegiate 
education.  He  had  graduated  with  honors;  read 
law  ;  been  admitted  to  the  bar ;  and  then  returned  to 
Sandgate  and  opened  an  office.  Alice,  three  years 
his  junior,  had  been  sent  to  a  boarding-school  for  two 
years,  where  she  devoted  most  of  her  time  to  music, 
then  came  home  again  as  mother's  helpmate. 

But  the  years  of  self-denial  were  at  an  end,  for  one 
June  day  that  mother  laid  down  her  burden  and  was 


TWO   ORPHANS  19 

placed  beside  her  husband  in  the  village  cemetery. 
Then  the  two  orphans  found  themselves  joint  heirs  to 
to  an  old  time-worn  house,  a  few  acres  of  meadow,  a 
couple  hundred  dollars  of  debts,  and  —  nothing  else. 
No ;  that  is  not  right,  for  they  both  had  youth,  good 
health  and  habits,  and  good  educations. 

Albert,  who  had  rather  taken  charge  of  matters 
since  his  return  to  Sandgate,  kept  the  debt  situation 
from  Alice  after  his  mother's  death,  feeling  she  had 
grief  enough  to  bear  without  it,  but  for  all  that,  it 
troubled  him  seriously.  The  income  from  his  prac 
tice  was  scarcely  enough  to  clothe  him  and  not 
likely  to  increase,  for  Sandgate  had  scant  use  for  a 
lawyer ;  and  what  to  do,  or  which  way  to  turn,  he 
knew  not.  If  it  were  not  for  Alice  and  Aunt  Susan 
he  thought  it  would  be  easier,  but  they  must  be  pro 
vided  for.  Alice,  who  had  been  his  companion,  play 
mate,  and  confidant  since  the  days  of  short  dresses, 
he  especially  cared  for,  and  that  feeling  was  mutual. 

So  devoted  a  brother  and  sister  were  they  that  it 
had  kept  them  from  forming  other  associations,  and 
when  Albert  had  been  asked  why  he  did  not  escort 
some  other  young  lady  to  the  husking-bees,  barn 
dances,  or  church  sociables,  his  usual  reply  was  : 
"  Alice  is  good  enough  for  me,  and  when  she  prefers 
another  beau  I  may,  but  not  till  then." 


20  UNCLE   TERRY 

With  Alice,  though  many  of  the  village  swains 
wooed,  —  she  wouldn't.  Even  Jim  Hears,  stalwart, 
and  with  a  hand  like  a  foot,  fared  no  better,  and 
when  Albert  rallied  her  once  about  young  Hears  she 
answered:  "  Oh,  Jim's  all  right.  He  isn't  handsome, 
but  then,  he  is  strong,"  which  delicate  sarcasm  may 
be  considered  a  sufficient  reflex  of  her  feelings  toward 
others  of  the  would-be  attentive  young  farmers. 

But  for  all  that,  Alice  was  counted  in  on  every 
festive  gathering.  If  it  was  a  barn  dance  she  was 
always  there  and  never  lacked  partners,  and  when 
the  jolly  party  rode  home  in  a  big  wagon  filled  with 
straw  it  was  her  voice  that  always  started  "  The 
Quilting  Party,"  or  other  old-time  ballad  usually  in 
spired  by  moonlight.  When  a  strawberry  festival 
was  in  order  at  the  church  she  was  given  a  post  of 
honor,  and  when  Christmas  decorations  were  necessary 
every  young  man  felt  it  a  privilege  to  obey  her  orders. 
At  home  she  was  the  same  winsome  little  queen,  and 
had  no  more  devoted  subject  than  her  brother. 

For  a  month  after  the  funeral  he  worried  a  good 
deal.  He  knew  that  bills  had  been  left  unpaid 
through  his  mother's  illness,  and  that  the  family  were 
in  straitened  circumstances.  His  own  law  prac 
tice  so  far  had  yielded  scant  returns,  and  what  to  do 
and  where  to  turn  was  a  puzzle.  He  wrote  to  a  former 


TWO   ORPHANS  21 

classmate  whose  father  was  a  prominent  merchant  in 
Boston,  stating  his  situation  and  asking  advice.  It 
was  two  weeks  ere  he  received  a  reply,  and  then, 
though  a  cordial  letter  of  sympathy  ^  it  did  not  go  far 
toward  solving  the  problem.  •  A  week  later,  however, 
came  a  letter  from  a  lawyer  in  that  city  by  the  name 
of  Frye,  offering  him  a  position  as  assistant  in  his 
office  at  a  small  salary.  It  was  so  small  that  Albert 
thought  it  a  hopeless  task  to  pay  home  expenses  out 
of  it  and  leave  anything  towards  their  debts.  It  was 
more  than  his  present  income,  however,  and  yet  to 
accept  the  offer  and  leave  Aunt  Susan  and  Alice 
alone  seemed  hard.  On  the  other  hand,  to  borrow 
money  on  what  little  of  the  farm  was  left  did  not 
help  matters,  for  when  that  was  gone,  what  then  ? 

Matters  came  to  a  climax  one  day,  and  ended  his 
indecision.  He  had  been  away  from  his  office  all  that 
afternoon,  taking  a  long  stroll  in  the  woods  to  escape 
his  loneliness,  and  returning  at  tea  time,  found  a  cloud 
on  his  sister's  face. 

"  Mr.  Hobbs  called  this  afternoon,"  she  said  as  they 
sat  down  to  the  table,  "  and  asked  for  you.  Said  he 
went  to  your  office,  and  not  finding  you  in,  came 
here."  And  then  she  added  with  a  quiver  in  her 
voice,  "  Oh,  Bertie,  we  owe  him  over  one  hundred 
dollars  I " 


22  UNCLE  TERRY 

The  trouble  was  all  out  now,  and  Albert  looked 
gloomy.  "  I  don't  think  any  more  of  him  for  coming 
here  to  dun  us,"  he  answered  savagely;  "he  might 
have  waited  until  he  saw  me." 

"  Oh,  he  was  very  nice  about  it,"  responded  Alice, 
"  and  begged  my  pardon  for  speaking  of  it.  He  said 
there  was  no  hurry,  only  that  he  had  made  out  his 
bill  as  a  matter  of  form,  etc.,  and  we  could  pay  it 
when  convenient." 

Albert  made  no  further  comment,  but  when  the 
meal  was  ended,  said :  "  Come  out  on  the  porch,  sis, 
and  let  us  talk  matters  over."  She  followed  him, 
feeling  there  was  trouble  coming,  and  drawing  her 
low  chair  next  to  his,  placed  one  elbow  on  his  chair 
arm  and  covered  her  face  with  that  hand.  For  a  few 
moments  he  remained  silent,  watching  the  fireflies 
beginning  their  evening  dance  over  the  meadow  and 
listening  to  the  distant  call  of  a  whippoorwill. 
Across  the  valley  the  village  lights  were  coining  in 
sight,  one  by  one,  and  a  faint  odor  of  new-mown  hay 
came  to  him.  The  pathetic  little  figure  at  his  side 
unnerved  him,  however,  and  he  dreaded  to  say  what 
he  must. 

"  Well,  sis,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I've  kept  matters 
from  you  as  long  as  I  can.  We  not  only  owe  Hobbs 
a  good  deal,  but  as  much  more  in  smaller  bills  to 


TWO   ORPHANS  23 

others,  and  there  is  no  money  to  pay  them.  Fve 
worried  about  them  more  than  you  know,  or  than  I 
cared  to  have  you.  One  of  two  things  must  be 
done,  either  borrow  money  and  pay  these  bills  or  I 
must  go  away  and  earn  some." 

Then  the  little  head  beside  him  sunk  slowly  to 
his  chair,  and  as  he  began  stroking  it  he  added,  "  I've 
written  to  Frank  Nason,  my  old  college  chum,  and 
through  him  have  received  a  fair  offer  to  go  to 
Boston,  and  have  decided  to  accept  it.  I  shall  leave 
here  as  soon  as  I  can  get  ready." 

The  trouble  was  growing  serious  now,  and  as  he 
ceased  speaking  he  caught  the  sound  of  a  suppressed 
sob.  "  Don't  cry,  Alice,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  it  can't 
be  helped.  Our  home  must  be  broken  up  sometime 
and  it  may  as  well  be  now  as  any  other.  The  thing 
that  worries  me  most  is  leaving  you  and  Aunt  Susan 
here  alone." 

Then  the  sobs  increased  and  the  bowed  form  beside 
him  shook. 

"  Oh,  Bertie,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  choked  voice, 
"  don't  leave  us  here  alone.  Let  us  sell  the  old  house, 
pay  the  bills,  and  if  you  must  go  away,  let  us  go  too." 

"No,  dear,  that  is  not  best,"  he  answered  softly. 
"  I  can't  earn  enough  at  first  to  do  it.  You  will  have 
to  stay  here  till  I  can." 


24  UNCLE   TERRY 

Then  the  proud  spirit  that  had  come  to  Alice  Page 
from  many  generations  of  self-helpful  ancestors  spoke 
and  she  said  as  she  raised  her  head  and  brushed  away 
the  tears  :  "  If  you  are  to  leave  me  here  I  shall  go  to 
work  as  well.  I  can  teach  school,  or  do  something  to 
help  you,  and  I  shall,  too  !  " 

Her  defiant  little  speech  hurt  Albert  just  a  bit  and 
yet  he  felt  proud  of  her  for  it.  "  It  may  be  best  for 
you  if  you  could  get  a  chance  to  teach,"  he  responded, 
"  and  it  will  help  me  some,  and  take  up  your  mind, 
which  is  worth  a  good  deal." 

But  the  worst  was  to  come,  and  the  evening  before 
his  departure  she  never  forgot.  There  were  some 
consolations  to  exchange,  however,  for  she  had  seen 
Mr.  Mears  of  the  school  committee  and  obtained  a 
position  to  teach  the  north  district  school  in  Sand- 
gate,  —  a  small  by-road  schoolhouse,  two  miles  from 
her  home,  —  and  felt  a  little  pride  in  telling  about  it ; 
while  he  had  to  report  that  all  whom  they  owed  had 
promised  to  wait  patiently  for  their  dues. 

"  Mr.  Hobbs  even  offered  to  lend  me  money  if  I 
needed  it,"  he  said  after  they  had  talked  matters 
over,  "  and  so,  you  see,  we  have  a  good  many  friends 
in  Sandgate  after  all.  And  now  I  want  you  to  sing  a 
few  of  the  old  songs  for  me,  so  that  I  can  have  them 
to  think  about  when  I  am  lonesome  and  homesick." 


TWO   ORPHANS  25 

But  the  singing  was  a  failure,  for  Alice  broke  down 
in  the  middle  of  the  first  song  and  they  had  to  go  out 
and  watch  the  fireflies  once  more,  while  she  conquered 
her  tears. 

"  You  will  write  to  me  every  day,  won't  you> 
Bertie  ?  "  she  asked  disconsolately,  as  they  waited 
the  next  morning  for  the  train  that  was  to  separate 
them.  "  I  shall  be  so  lonesome  and  blue  all  the  time ! " 

When  he  kissed  her  good-by  she  could  not  speak, 
and  the  last  he  saw,  as  the  train  bore  him  away,  was 
that  sweet  sister's  face,  trying  bravely  to  smile 
through  its  tears,  like  the  sun  peeping  out  of  a  cloud. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   SPIDER   IN   HIS   DEN 

"  That's  a  sucker  born  every  minit,  an'  two  ter  ketch  him."  — 
Uncle  Terry. 

THERE  are  lawyers  and  lawyers.  Not  all  are  le 
galized  pickpockets,  and  not  all  are  imbued  with  the 
sole  and  noble  purpose  of  serving  the  ends  of  justice, 
whether  that  service  lines  their  pockets  or  not. 
Some,  and  I  may  say  many  of  them,  contrive  to 
reverse  matters  and  to  make  justice  serve  them,  and  if 
the  ways  of  justice  do  not  conspire  to  that  end,  so 
much  the  worse  for  the  blind  goddess.  Modern  jus 
tice  oft-times  means  the  longest  purse  and  the  keenest 
ability  to  evade  the  law,  and  while  an  unprincipled 
lawyer  will  not  exactly  throttle  the  mythological 
maiden  who  holds  the  scales,  he  will,  if  necessary, 
so  befog  her  every  sense  with  evasions,  subterfuges, 
and  non-pertinent  issues  that  she  might  just  as  well 
have  been  born  deaf  and  dumb,  and  without  feeling,  as 
well  as  blind,  for  all  the  use  she  has  of  those  senses.  Not 
only  does  modern  law  service  frequently  resolve  itself 


A   SPIDER  IN   HIS   DEN  27 

into  a  contest  of  unscrupulous  cunning,  but  modem 
law-making  is  occasionally  shaped  to  serve  the  ends 
of  the  profession,  instead  of  justice.  While  the  ma 
jority  of  lawyers  are  not  rascals  in  name,  a  good  many 
are  at  heart,  and  with  the  most,  when  it  comes  to  the 
question  of  justice  and  a  small  fee  and  injustice  and 
a  big  one,  —  well,  draw  your  own  conclusions,  all  ye 
who  have  been  fools  enough  to  seek  recourse  at  law. 

Lawyers  seem  to  thrive  on  the  passions  and  vanities 
of  mankind,  and  many  of  them  are  looking  for  fools 
who  have  money  and  a  grievance.  The  time-worn 
sarcasm  that  "After  man  came  woman,  and  she  has 
been  after  him  ever  since  "  would  be  more  to  the 
point  if  "lawyer"  were  substituted  for  "woman." 

But  the  world  is  full  of  fools  who  thirst  for  revenge 
in  law,  or  seem  anxious  to  find  some  one  to  dupe  them 
in  other  ways  and  always  succeed;  so  Uncle  Terry 
was  more  than  half  right  when  he  said,  "Thar's  a 
sucker  born  every  minit,  an'  two  ter  ketch  him." 

Of  all  the  smooth,  elusive  vultures  lurking  in  the 
shadow  of  the  temple  of  justice,  or  perching  upon  it, 
Nicholas  Frye,  or  "  Old  Nick,"  as  many  called  him, 
was  the  most  cunning.  Nor  did  his  looks  belie  the 
comparison,  for  he  had  deep-set,  shifty,  yellow-gray 
eyes,  a  hooked  nose,  and  his  thin  locks,  dyed  jet  black, 
formed  a  ring  about  his  bald  poll.  He  walked  with 


28  UNCLE   TERRY 

a  stoop,  as  if  scanning  the  ground  for  evidence  or 
clues,  and  to  add  to  his  marked  individuality,  when 
he  talked  he  rubbed  his  hands  together  as  though 
washing  them  with  invisible  soap.  It  was  not  from 
any  sense  of  cleanliness  that  he  did  this,  for  they  had 
many  times  been  soiled  willingly  in  the  most  nefarious 
transactions.  A  client  was  to  him  a  victim  to  be  kept 
in  waiting ;  exasperated  in  regard  to  his  grievances  by 
all  possible  means ;  deluded  as  to  his  chances  of  suc 
cess  in  quest  of  justice ;  deceived  as  to  its  cost ;  and 
robbed  in  every  way  known  to  an  astute  lawyer.  He 
had  been  the  legal  adviser  of  John  Nason  for  many 
years,  and  when  that  busy  merchant  came  to  him  on 
behalf  of  his  son,  who  wanted  to  find  a  position  for 
Albert  Page,  Frye  readily  promised  to  give  him  em 
ployment.  It  was  not  because  he  needed  him,  but  be 
cause  he  saw  at  once  that  through  some  friendship  for 
this  young  sprig  of  the  law,  as  he  intuitively  considered 
Albert  to  be,  he  could  strengthen  his  hold  upon  the 
father  and  obtain  some  secrets  that  might  eventually 
be  used  to  rob  him.  In  plain  words,  he  thought  to 
use  this  young  country  lawyer  as  a  spy.  He  knew 
that  John  Nason  felt  a  keen  interest  in  his  only  son 
Frank,  and  that  was  another  reason  for  employing 
that  son's  friend.  He  knew  also  that  Frank  was 
given  a  liberal  allowance,  spent  it  rapidly,  and  most 


A    SPIDER    IN    HIS    DEN  29 

likely  would  be  getting  into  various  scrapes  needing  a 
lawyer's  efforts  to  rescue  him,  and  so  he  would  have 
further  pickings  in  that  direction.  These  were  two 
good  reasons  for  his  ostensible  acts  of  kindness,  and 
so  he  at  once  sent  for  Page  to  come. 

When,  the  morning  after  his  arrival  in  Boston, 
Albert  presented  himself  at  Frye's  office,  he  found 
that  lawyer  busy  reading  his  mail. 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  said  Frye  politely,  after  Albert 
had  introduced  himself,  "and  excuse  me  until  I  go 
through  my  letters."  And  then,  for  a  long  half  hour, 
Albert  was  left  to  study  the  bare  office  walls  and  pe 
culiar  looks  of  his  future  employer.  Finally  Frye 
turned  to  him  and  asked  rather  abruptly :  "  Well,  Mr. 
Page,  what  do  you  know  about  law  ? "  at  the  same 
time  scanning  him  as  if  expecting  to  see  hayseed  ad 
hering  to  his  garments. 

"  Not  much,  perhaps,"  replied  Albert  modestly,  un 
certain  of  his  ground.  "  I  have  been  in  practice  only 
a  year  at  Sandgate,  and  the  few  people  there  do  not 
have  much  use  for  a  lawyer." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  stir  'em  up  a  little  and 
bring  'em  to  see  they  needed  your  services  ?  "  was 
Frye's  next  query.  "You  will  never  succeed  as  a 
lawyer  unless  you  make  business.  Did  you  bring 
your  sheepskin  with  you?" 


30  UNCLE   TERRY 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Page,  "I  didn't  think  it 
necessary,  after  what  I  wrote  you.  I  have  it  in  my 
trunk." 

"  Well,  bring  it  to-morrow,"  said  Frye.  "  I  make  it 
a  rule  to  take  nothing  for  granted  and  have  every 
thing  in  writing ;  "  and  then  he  added  with  a  search 
ing  look,  as  if  he  was  about  to  utter  a  crusher,  "  What 
is  your  idea  of  a  lawyer's  chief  object  in  existence  ?  " 

Page  was  a  little  nonplussed.  "  Oh,  I  suppose,"  he 
replied  slowly,  "to  see  that  laws  are  properly  exe 
cuted  and  justice  done." 

Frye  looked  at  him  a  full  minute  without  making 
any  further  comment,  while  a  sardonic  grin  gradually 
drew  his  lips  apart,  showing  a  full  set  of  false  teeth, 
and  then,  as  he  began  rubbing  his  hands  together,  he 
said: 

"It's  evident,  young  man,  you  have  much  to  learn 
in  your  profession.  Laws  are  made  for  lawyers,  and 
are  the  tools  of  our  trade.  If  the  world  does  not  see 
fit  to  use  those  tools,  it  is  our  business  to  make  them, 
and  as  for  justice,  that  is  an  allegory,  useful  in 
addressing  a  jury,  but  considered  a  fable  by  the  judge. 
Laws  are  useful  to  oppose  other  laws  with,  and 
various  decisions  are  only  good  in  so  far  as  they  help 
your  case  and  hinder  your  opponent's. 

"  You  seem  an  honest-appearing  young  man,  which 


A   SPIDER   IN  HIS   DEN  31 

is  well  so  far  as  our  relations  go,  but  no  further.  I 
want  an  assistant,  and  one  who  is  ready  and  willing 
to  do  just  as  I  direct  and  to  ask  no  questions.  Do 
you  think  you  can  fill  the  bill  ?  " 

"  I  can  try,"  replied  Albert  quietly,  "  and  as  soon  as 
I  get  used  to  your  methods  of  procedure  here  I  think 
I  can  succeed." 

He  was  a  little  startled  at  the  peculiar  character  of 
his  employer,  and  in  a  way  slightly  disgusted,  but 
he  was  not  in  a  position  to  cavil  or  feel  squeamish 
over  apparent  lack  of  honesty,  and  resolved  at  once 
to  ignore  it. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  "  he  continued  after 
a  moment.  "  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  for  you  and  am 
ready  to  go  to  work  now." 

"  You  are  to  be  at  the  office  at  eight  o'clock  sharp," 
replied  Frye,  "  take  one  hour  for  lunch,  and  remain 
till  six."  Then  he  added  by  way  of  a  spur  to  his 
slave's  fidelity,  "  I  am  paying  you  seventy-five  dollars 
a  month  on  the  recommend  of  an  important  client  of 
mine  who  wanted  to  humor  his  son.  It  was  your 
good  luck  to  have  this  son's  friendship,  as  he  belongs 
to  a  wealthy  family.  He  is  a  spendthrift,  of  course, 
but  that  is  no  matter,  and  all  the  better  for  us.  Take 
my  advice,  and  cultivate  him  all  you  can.  It  may  be 
the  means  of  bringing  us  more  business.  What  I  say 


32  UNCLE   TERRY 

to  you  I  shall  expect  you  to  consider  a  professional 
secret  and  I  hope  you  will  make  good  use  of  your 
time  when  with  this  young  friend  of  yours,  and  heed 
well  what  I  have  said  to  you." 

That  ended  the  interview  and  Albert  was  set  at 
work  copying  legal  documents  and  at  the  same  time 
trying  to  reconcile  himself  to  his  new  surroundings. 
That  night  he  wrote  to  Alice :  "  I  have  hired  out  to 
a  most  unmitigated  old  scoundrel,  and  yet  one  of  the 
sharpest  lawyers  I  ever  met.  He  assured  me  I  must 
lay  aside  my  conscience  if  I  mean  to  succeed  and 
hinted  that  he  might  use  me  later  on  as  a  sort  of  spy 
upon  Frank,  I  imagine.  He  employs  a  stenographer 
of  uncertain  age  who  comes  in  and  takes  dicta 
tion  and  does  her  work  outside.  The  only  stupid 
thing  he  has  said  was  to  warn  me  not  to  flirt  with 
her." 

Then  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Frank,  telling  him 
where  he  was  located,  thanking  him  for  his  assistance, 
and  begging  him  to  call  at  an  early  date.  After 
that  he  smoked  for  an  hour  in  glum  silence.  His  room 
was  small  and  cheerless,  and,  in  comparison  with  his 
home  quarters,  a  mere  den.  But  it  was  a  question  of 
saving,  and  the  luxury  of  space,  even,  he  could  not 
afford.  There  is  no  more  lonesome  place  in  the  wide 
world  than  a  great  city  to  one  born  and  bred  amid 


A  SPIDER  IN   HIS  DEN  33 

the  freedom  of  the  wide  fields  and  extended  wood 
lands  as  Albert  had  been,  and  now  that  he  was  shut 
in  by  brick  walls  all  day,  and  imprisoned  in  one  small 
room  at  night,  with  a  solitary  window  opening  on  an 
area  devoted  to  ash  barrels  and  garbage,  it  made  him 
homesick.  He  was  a  dreamer  by  nature  and  loved 
the  music  of  running  brooks,  the  rustling  of  winds 
in  the  forest,  and  the  song  of  birds.  The  grand  old 
mountains  that  surrounded  Sandgate  had  been  the 
delight  of  his  boyhood,  and  to  fish  in  the  clear  streams 
that  tumbled  down  through  narrow  gorges  and  wound 
amid  wide  meadows,  or  in  the  lily-dotted  mill  pond, 
his  pastime.  He  had  the  artist's  nature  in  him  also, 
and  loved  dearly  to  sketch  a  pretty  bit  of  natural 
scenery,  a  cascade  in  the  brook  or  a  shady  grotto  in 
the  woods.  He  loved  books,  flowers,  music,  green 
meadows,  shady  woods,  and  fields  white  with  daisies. 
He  had  been  reared  among  kind-hearted,  honest,  God 
fearing  people  who  seldom  locked  their  doors  at  night 
and  who  believed  in  and  lived  by  the  Golden  Rule. 
The  selfish  and  distrustful  life  of  a  great  city,  with 
its  arrogance  and  wealth  and  vanity  of  display,  was 
not  akin  to  him,  and  to  put  himself  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  a  mercenary  and  utterly  unscrupulous  old 
villain,  as  he  believed  Frye  to  be,  was  gall  and  bitter 
ness.  For  two  weeks  he  worked  patiently,  hoping 


34  UNCLE   TEKBY 

each  day  that  the  one  and  only  friend  the  city  held 
for  him  would  call,  passing  his  evenings,  as  he  wrote 
Alice,  "in  reading,  smoking,  and  hating  myself  a 
little,  and  Frye  a  good  deal." 

He  had  hesitated  to  write  Frank  in  the  first  place, 
disliking  to  ask  favors,  but  it  could  not  be  helped, 
and  now  he  began  to  feel  that  his  friend  meant  to 
ignore  him.  This  humiliating  conclusion  was  grow 
ing  to  a  certainty,  and  Albert  feeling  more  homesick 
than  ever,  when  one  afternoon,  while  he  was  as  usual 
hard  at  work  in  Frye's  office,  Frank  came  in. 

"Pray  excuse  me,  old  man,"  remarked  that  youth 
briskly,  after  the  first  greetings,  "  for  not  calling 
sooner,  but  I  was  off  on  my  yacht  about  the  time  you 
came,  and  then  I  ran  down  to  New  York  to  take  in 
the  cup  races.  You  see,  I'm  so  busy  I  do  not  get 
any  time  to  myself.  I  want  you  to  come  over  to  the 
club  and  lunch  with  me  to-day,  and  we  can  talk 
matters  over." 

"  You  will  kindly  excuse  me,"  replied  Albert.  "  I 
have  a  lot-  of  work  cut  out,  and  am  only  allowed  one 
hour  for  lunch.  Can't  you  come  around  to  my  room 
to-night  and  have  a  smoke-talk?  " 

"  Maybe,"  replied  Frank,  "  and  we  can  go  around 
to  the  club  later.  You  will  meet  some  good  fellows 
there,  and  we  always  make  up  a  game  of  draw — • 


A   SPIDER   IN   HIS   DEN  35 

small  limit,  you  know.  Say,  old  man,"  he  added 
interestedly,  "  how  do  you  like  Frye  ?  " 

As  that  worthy  happened  to  be  out  just  then,  the 
two  friends  had  a  good  chance  to  exchange  opinions. 
Albert's  is  already  known,  but,  for  reasons,  he  did  not 
care  to  express  it  to  Frank  at  this  time. 

"  Frye  is  a  shrewd  lawyer,  I  presume,"  he  answered, 
"  and  so  far  I  have  no  fault  to  find.  He  takes  good 
care  to  see  I  have  work  enough,  but  that  is  what  I  am 
hired  for,  and  I  have  been  rather  lonesome,  and  glad 
of  it." 

Then  to  change  the  subject  he  added  :  "  I  want  to 
thank  you  once  more,  Frank,  for  getting  me  the 
place.  Things  were  in  a  bad  way  at  home,  and  I 
needed  it." 

"  You  may  thank  dad,  not  me,"  replied  Frank  ;  "  I 
was  just  going  off  on  a  trip  when  your  letter  came, 
and  I  turned  the  matter  over  to  him.  Frye's  his 
attorney,  you  see." 

"Are  you  personally  well  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Frye  ?  "  asked  Albert,  having  an  object  in  mind. 

"  No,  not  at  all,  except  by  sight,"  was  the  answer. 
"  I  believe  he  is  considered  a  very  sharp  lawyer,  and 
almost  invariably  wins  his  cases.  Dad  says  he  has 
won  out  many  times  when  the  law  was  all  against 
him,  and  is  not  over-scrupulous  how  he  does  it. 


36  UNCLE   TERBY 

They  say  he  is  rich,  and  a  skinflint.  He  always  re 
minds  me  of  a  hungry  buzzard." 

Albert  thought  of  Burns'  apt  cynicism  just  then, 
and  wished  that  Frye  might  for  one  moment  see  him 
self  as  others  saw  him.  He  felt  tempted  to  tell 
Frank  just  what  Frye  had  said,  and  what  his  opinion 
of  him  was,  but  wisely  kept  it  to  himself.  Had  he 
been  a  woman,  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  shown 
so  much  discretion,  and  not  every  man  would. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  going,"  said  Frank,  at  last. 
"  I've  got  a  date  for  the  mat.,  this  aft.,  so  ta-ta.  I'll 
call  round  some  eve.,  at  your  room,  and  take  you  up 
to  the  club." 

When  his  friend  had  departed,  Albert  resumed  his 
rather  monotonous  copying  the  gist  of  a  lot  of  deci 
sions  bearing  upon  a  case  that  Frye  had  pending  just 
then,  and  when  he  went  out  to  lunch,  it  was,  as 
usual,  alone,  and  to  a  cheap  restaurant. 

"  It's  nice  to  have  a  rich  father,  a  yacht,  plenty  of 
money  and  nothing  to  do  but  spend  it,"  he  said  to 
himself  ruefully  that  night,  as  he  sat  in  his  cheerless 
room  smoking  and  dwelling  upon  the  picture  of  a 
gay  life  as  disclosed  by  his  friend.  "  But  we  are  not 
all  born  to  fortune,  and  perhaps,  after  all,  I  might  be 
worse  off,"  —  which,  to  say  the  least,  is  the  best  way 
to  look  at  it. 


CHAPTER   V 

WAYS   THAT   ARE   DARK 

WITH  "  Old  Nick  "  Frye  the  eleventh  commandment, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  get  caught,"  outweighed  all  the  rest. 
It  was  not  because  he  especially  needed  the  assistance 
of  Page  that  he  had  hired  him,  although  he  could 
serve  him  in  a  way ;  but  it  was  that  he  could  use  him 
as  a  means  to  an  end  in  a  totally  different  capacity 
from  copying  law  reports.  John  Nason,  one  of  his 
principal  clients,  was  a  wealthy  and  successful  mer 
chant,  and  both  proud  and  fond  of  his  only  son.  Frye 
had  heard  various  stories  of  the  elder  Nason,  connect 
ing  his  name  with  certain  good-looking  girls  that  had 
been  or  were  in  his  employ,  and  that  vulture,  with  a 
keen  scent  for  evil,  was  only  too  ready  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  anything,  no  matter  what,  so  long  as  it 
would  aid  him  in  his  efforts  to  make  the  most  out 
of  his  client.  He  knew  also  that  Frank  was,  as  the 
saying  goes,  "  cutting  a  wide  swath."  To  use  the 
son's  friend  as  a  means  to  reach  the  son,  and  through 
him  possibly  the  father,  was  considered  by  Frye  a  wise 
stroke  of  policy. 


38  UNCLE   TERRY 

When,  a  few  days  after  Frank  had  called  upon 
Page,  the  latter  chanced  to  mention  it  to  Frye,  he 
made  a  note  of  it  at  once. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said  cordially,  "  that  your  friend 
has  hunted  you  up.  I  knew  he  was  away  on  his  yacht 
when  you  came,  and  was  going  to  suggest  that  you 
call  on  him  as  soon  as  I  knew  he  was  at  home.  As  I 
told  you,  cultivate  him  all  you  can.  He  will  serve  as 
a  door  to  get  you  into  good  society.  When  did  he 
call?" 

"It  was  one  day  while  you  were  out,"  answered 
Page,  "  and  he  invited  me  to  lunch  with  him  at  his 
club." 

"  Which  of  course  you  did  ?  "  said  Frye. 

"  No,  sir ;  I  knew  I  shouldn't  have  time  for  it  dur 
ing  my  one  hour,  and  then,  you  had  given  me  a  lot  of 
work  to  do  that  day." 

A  shade  of  annoyance  came  over  Frye's  face. 

"  Well,  that's  all  right,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  but 
when  he  calls  again  take  all  the  time  you  need  if  he 
asks  you  out,  and,"  with  a  scrutinizing  look  at  Page, 
"  as  I  said,  cultivate  him.  It's  business.  His  father 
is  my  most  valued  client,  and  the  more  intimate  you 
become  with  his  son  the  sooner  you  will  have  an 
acquaintance  that  will  be  of  value  to  you." 

Page  could  not  quite  fathom  all  this,  but  the  more 


WAYS   THAT   ABE  DARK  39 

he  thought  of  what  Frye  had  said  the  more  certain  he 
became  that  kindly  regard  for  his  own  welfare  did  not 
enter  into  that  shrewd  schemer's  calculations.  He 
was  more  and  more  disgusted,  also,  each  day,  with  his 
employer's  cynical  indifference  to  all  sense  of  honor 
and  honesty,  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  no 
better  than  a  thief  at  heart. 

Beneath  Albert's  disposition  to  adapt  himself  to 
those  he  mingled  with  lay  a  vein  of  sterling  good 
sense,  fine  honor,  and  the  energy  of  self-sacrifice,  if 
necessary,  and  Frye's  attributes  were  so  obnoxious  to 
him  as  to  be  simply  repulsive.  At  college  he  had 
never  indulged  in  much  "  larking,"  and  just  why  the 
bond  of  friendship  between  himself  and  the  good- 
natured,  self-indulgent,  happy-go-lucky  classmate, 
Frank  Nason,  had  been  cemented  is  hard  to  explain, 
except  upon  the  theory  of  the  attraction  of  opposites. 
When,  a  few  days  later,  that  young  man  appeared  at 
the  office  just  before  closing  time,  and  suggested  they 
"  go  out  for  a  night's  racket,"  as  he  phrased  it,  Albert 
was  not  inclined  to  accept. 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ?  "  he  said  as  they  walked 
away  from  the  office,  "  and  what  do  you  mean  by  a 
racket  ?  If  it's  likely  to  be  expensive,  count  me  out ; 
I  can't  afford  it." 

"Well,"  answered  Frank  lightly,  "you  are  work- 


40  UNCLE  TEBBY 

ing  too  hard,  and  need  shaking  up,  so  I  thought  I'd 
drop  round  and  do  it.  We  will  dine  at  the  club, 
then  go  to  the  Castle  Square,  where  there  is  a  bur 
lesque  on  and  no  end  of  pretty  chorus  girls.  I  know 
two  or  three  of  them,  and  after  the  show  we  will  take 
them  out  to  supper ;  that  is  all." 

"  It's  all  right  except  the  end-up,"  answered  Albert, 
44  and  on  that  I  think  you  had  best  skip  me.  As  I 
said,  it's  a  diversion  I  can't  afford.  I've  no  money  to 
spare  to  buy  wine  for  ballet  girls." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  responded  Frank  cheerfully. 
"  I've  asked  you  out  and  it's  my  treat.  I'll  pay  the 
shot  this  time." 

"  I  shall  pay  my  share  if  I  go,"  asserted  Albert 
firmly,  "  but  I  would  rather  omit  the  after  part.  We 
will  have  the  evening  together  and  then  you  can  go  and 
entertain  your  chorus  girls  and  I'll  go  to  my  room." 

It  was  a  laudable  resolution,  but  it  came  hard,  for 
beneath  all  Albert's  good  resolves  was  lurking  desire 
for  a  little  excitement  to  break  the  dull  monotony  of 
his  life.  He  had  been  to  the  theatre  only  twice  since 
he  came  to  Boston,  desiring  to  save  in  every  way  he 
could,  and  only  the  week  before  had  sent  Alice  one- 
third  of  his  first  month's  salary.  At  the  club  Frank 
introduced  him  to  several  of  his  friends  and  of  course 
they  were  asked  to  join  them  in  a  social  glass,  which 


WAYS   THAT  ABE  DARK  41 

did  not  tend  to  strengthen  Albert's  resolution.  At 
the  theatre  the  exhilarating  music,  and  the  glitter  of 
a  stage  full  of  pretty  girls  in  scant  drapery,  all  had 
their  usual  effect,  and  by  the  time  the  show  was  over 
he  found  it  next  to  impossible  to  resist  his  friend's 
urging  that  they  go  around  to  the  stage  door  and 
meet  the  girls  he  had  invited  to  sup  with  them. 

"  Mind  you,  let  me  pay  my  share,"  whispered  Page, 
and  then  he  found  himself  being  introduced  by  his 
first  name  to  two  highly  colored  queens  of  the  ballet, 
and  all  four  proceeded  at  once  to  a  private  supper- 
room.  Albert  found  the  girls  bright,  vivacious,  and  ex 
pressive,  so  far  as  a  superficial  use  of  slang  goes :  they 
ordered  the  choicest  and  highest-priced  items  on  the  bill 
of  fare  ;  called  for  champagne  and  drank  it  freely  ;  ad 
dressed  their  escorts  as  "  Cully,"  "  Old  Sport,"  and 
"  Old  Stocking ;  "  smoked  cigarettes  ;  and  talked  about 
their  "  mashes  "  in  other  cities  in  a  way  that  made 
Albert  grateful  that  he  had  been  introduced  by  his 
first  name  only. 

It  was  not  an  immoral  proceeding,  though  not  ex 
actly  proper,  and  when  in  the  wee  small  hours  they  — 
with  a  mistaken  sense  of  gallantry  —  escorted  the  two 
actresses  (if  such  they  may  be  termed)  to  their  board 
ing-place,  Page,  at  least,  was  glad  to  be  well  rid  of 
them.  And  when  he  reached  his  room,  it  must  be 


42  UNCLE   TERRY 

said  to  his  credit,  he  did  not  feel  particularly  proud 
of  himself. 

He  felt  less  so  the  next  morning  when  he  received 
a  letter  from  Alice  which  said  : 

MY  DARLING  BROTHER  :  I  was  so  pleased  when  I  received 
your  loving  letter  and  the  money  you  sent.  You  do  not  know 
how  it  hurts  me  to  feel  we  owe  so  much,  and  I  have  cried  over 
it  more  than  you  will  ever  know.  Last  week  I  received  my 
first  month's  pay,  —  thirty  dollars,  —  and  I  was  very  proud  of  it, 
for  it  is  the  first  money  I  ever  earned.  I  took  half  and  put  it 
with  the  twenty-five  you  sent  and  gave  it  to  Mr.  Hobbs.  I 
have  only  six  dollars  left,  for  I  had  to  buy  some  boots  and 
gloves,  but  that  will  last  me  a  month,  for  I've  not  the  heart  to 
spend  a  penny  I  am  not  obliged  to,  until  the  debts  are  paid.  I 
had  to  buy  the  boots,  because  walking  four  miles  a  day  wears 
them  out  very  fast. 

And  he  had  spent  twenty  dollars  the  night  before 
to  have  a  couple  of  ballet  girls  talk  slang,  smoke 
cigarettes,  and  call  him  "  Cully  "  ! 

When  he  thought  of  his  sweet  and  loving  sister, 
with  her  perfect  faith  in  his  manhood,  walking  four 
miles  a  day  to  earn  less  than  two  dollars,  while  he  had 
been  induced  to  spend  in  one  foolish  evening  as  much 
as  she  could  earn  in  two  weeks,  it  was  no  wonder  he 
did  not  feel  proud  of  himself. 


CHAPTER    VI 

A  PUSH  DOWNWARD 

"  He  digged  a  pit,  he  digged  it  deep, 

He  digged  it  for  a  brother ; 
But  oh,  alas  !  he  fell  into 

The  pit  he  digged  for  another." 

Old  Saw. 

PAGE  was  a  little  late  at  the  office  the  next  morn 
ing  and  Frye  was  there  ahead  of  him. 

"  I  was  out  with  young  Nason  last  evening,"  he 
explained,  as  the  old  lawyer  bade  him  a  rather  crusty 
good  morning,  "  and  I  overslept." 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  right,"  responded  Frye,  in  an  in 
stantaneously  sweetened  tone,  "  I  am  glad  you  were, 
and,  as  I  told  you,  you  are  wise  to  cultivate  him.  I 
suppose,"  he  continued  with  a  leer,  "  that  you  were 
buying  wine  for  some  of  the  gay  girls?" 

Page  looked  confused.  "  Well,  we  went  to  the 
theatre,  and  after  that  had  a  late  supper,"  he  explained, 
"  and  it  was  after  one  before  I  returned  to  my  room." 

"  I  don't  care  how  late  you  are  out,  or  what  you 


44  UNCLE  TERBY 

did,"  said  Frye,  still  eyeing  Page,  "so  long  as  you 
were  with  young  Nason  and  kept  out  of  the  lockup. 
His  father  pays  me  a  salary  to  look  after  his  law 
business,  and  his  son  is  the  pride  of  his  heart.  I 
trust  you  understand  my  meaning.  If  you  don't  feel 
like  work  this  morning,"  he  continued  suavely, 
"  mount  your  wheel  and  take  a  run  out  to  Winches 
ter  and  see  if  that  mortgage  on  the  Seaver  estate  has 
been  satisfied.  The  exercise  and  air  will  do  you 
good." 

Page  was  nonplussed. 

"  He  has  some  deep-laid  plot  in  his  mind,"  he 
thought  as  he  looked  at  Frye,  who,  having  delivered 
this  amazing  pat,  turned  at  once  to  his  mail.  It  was 
all  the  more  amazing  because  at  the  start  he  had  been 
assured  that  punctuality  and  good  conduct  on  his 
part  were  obligatory.  Now  he  was  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  not  only  told  he  might  lark  it  with  young 
Nason  all  he  chose,  but  even  urged  to  do  so.  He 
was  glad  to  escape  the  office,  however,  for  his  head 
felt  full  of  bees,  and  thanking  his  employer  for  the 
permission,  he  quickly  left  the  city  behind  him.  The 
crisp  October  air  and  exercise  soon  cured  his  head 
ache,  and  in  a  measure  drove  away  some  of  the  self- 
reproaches  at  his  own  foolish  conduct  of  the  night 
before. 


A  PUSH  DOWNWARD  45 

The  errand  at  Winchester  was  attended  to,  and 
then,  after  taking  a  glass  of  bromo-seltzer,  he  headed 
back  for  the  city,  taking  another  course.  By  the 
time  he  reached  town  he  was  faint  from  hunger,  for 
he  had  eaten  no  breakfast.  A  good  dinner  restored 
him  to  his  natural  self-possession,  and  then  he  went 
to  the  office. 

For  a  week  he  reproached  himself  every  time  he 
thought  how  much  his  escapade  had  cost,  and  felt  too 
ashamed  to  answer  Alice's  letter.  When  he  did  he 
assured  that  innocent  sister  that  he  was  saving  all  he 
could  and  should  send  more  money  as  soon  as  possible. 
Frank  called  twice,  and  the  second  time  urged  him  to 
join  the  club,  to  which  Page  assented. 

"  It  will  serve  as  a  place  to  spend  a  lonesome  even 
ing,"  he  thought.  It  was  a  wise  step,  for  it  is  during 
lonesome  hours,  if  ever,  that  one's  steps  are  turned 
toward  evil  associations. 

Several  times  Frye  had  made  casual  inquiries  as  to 
the  progress  of  his  intimacy  with  young  Nason,  all  of 
which  led  Page  to  wonder  what  his  object  was  and 
why  it  concerned  him.  At  last,  one  day  just  at  clos 
ing  time,  and  after  he  had  told  the  office  boy  he 
might  go,  Frye  let  a  little  light  into  that  enigma. 

"  Sit  down  a  moment,  Mr.  Page,"  he  remarked,  as 
the  latter  was  preparing  to  leave  ;  "I  have  a  proposi- 


46  UNCLE   TERRY 

tion  of  an  important  nature  to  make  to  you,"  and 
then  as  he  fixed  his  merciless  eyes  on  his  clerk  and 
began  to  slowly  rub  his  hands  together,  he  continued  : 
"  You  have  been  nearly  three  months  in  my  employ, 
Mr.  Page,  and  have  fulfiled  your  duties  satisfactorily. 
I  think  the  time  has  come  when  I  may  safely  enlarge 
them  a  little.  As  I  told  you,  John  Nason  pays  me  a 
yearly  retainer  to  attend  to  all  his  law  business.  I 
have  reason  to  feel  he  is  not  entirely  satisfied  to  con 
tinue  that  arrangement,  and  I  am  forced  to  find  some 
way  to  bring  a  little  pressure  to  bear  on  him  in  order 
that  he  may  see  it  is  for  his  interest  to  still  retain  me. 
Now  I  believe  John  Nason  is  not  entirely  happy  in 
his  home  relations  and  is  leading  a  double  life,  and 
that  a  certain  Miss  Maud  Vernon,  a  cashier  in  his 
store,  receives  a  share  of  his  attentions.  She  and  a 
supposed  aunt  of  hers  occupy  a  flat  in  a  block  owned 
by  Nason,  and  while  they  are  never  seen  in  public 
together,  gossip  links  their  names.  What  I  want  is 
for  you  to  find  out,  through  your  acquaintance  with 
the  Nasons,  just  what  bond  there  is  between  the  elder 
Nason  and  this  Miss  Vernon,  and  report  to  me.  I  do 
not  intend  to  use  the  knowledge  for  any  illegal  pur 
pose,  but  merely  as  a  leverage  to  retain  Nason's  busi 
ness.  I  am  aware  that  to  prosecute  your  inquiries 
discreetly  by  means  of  your  intimacy  with  young 


A   PUSH   DOWNWARD  47 

Nason  will  require  more  money  than  I  am  paying 
you,  and  therefore,  if  I  can  depend  on  you  to  do  a 
little  detective  work,  I  shall  from  now  on  increase 
your  salary  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  dollars.  What  do  you  say?" 

The  first  impulse  that  Page  felt  was  to  absolutely 
refuse,  there  and  then,  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
Frye's  nefarious  scheme,  but  the  thought  of  his  situa 
tion,  the  unpaid  debt  at  home,  and  the  certainty  that 
a  refusal  would  mean  a  loss  of  his  position  conquered 
his  pride  and  kept  him  silent.  For  a  moment  he  re 
flected,  trying  hard  to  see  a  way  out  of  the  dilemma ; 
and  then  said : 

"  It  is  rather  a  hard  task  you  ask,  Mr.  Frye,  for  I 
am  not  accustomed  to  the  role  of  detective,  but  I  am 
in  your  employ,  and  as  long  as  I  am  I  will  do  the 
best  I  can  for  your  interests." 

It  was  a  temporizing  reply,  and  Frye  so  construed 
it  at  once. 

"  I  must  insist,  if  you  accept  my  offer,"  he  said, 
u  that  you  give  me  your  promise  to  do  your  best  to 
earn  the  money.  It  doesn't  pay  to  be  too  squeamish 
in  this  world,"  he  continued,  in  a  soothing  tone  ;  "  all 
business  is  to  a  certain  extent  a  game  of  extortion  — 
a  question  of  do  the  other  fellow  or  he  will  do  you." 
Then  arising,  and  holding  out  a  skinny  hand  to  grasp 


48  UNCLE   TERBY 

Page's,  as  if  to  bind  the  bargain,  he  added :  "  I  shall 
expect  you  to  keep  faith  with  me,  Mr.  Page,"  and  the 
interview  ended. 

When  Albert  entered  the  dining-room  at  his  board 
ing-place  that  night  he  felt  as  if  his  face  must  show 
guilt,  and  when  later  he  met  Frank  at  the  club  that 
feeling  increased.  He  was  preoccupied  and  morose, 
and  Frank,  noticing  his  frame  of  mind,  tried  to  cheer 
him. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  had  been  given  a  facer,  old 
man,"  he  said.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  Has  Frye  been 
calling  you  down  for  something  ?  " 

Page  looked  at  his  friend  a  moment,  and  the  im 
pulse  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  relieve  his  feel 
ings,  was  strong,  but  he  did  not. 

"I  do  not  like  Frye,"  he  said  instead,  "and  the 
more  I  see  of  him  the  less  I  like  him.  At  times  he 
makes  me  feel  as  if  he  was  a  snake  ready  to  uncoil 
and  strike.  Did  you  ever  notice  his  eyes,  and  the 
way  he  has  of  rubbing  his  hands  when  talking?" 

"I  have,"  was  the  answer,  "and  he  has  the  most 
hideous  eyes  I  ever  saw  in  a  human  being.  They 
look  like  a  cat's  in  the  dark.  Dad  told  me  once  he 
saw  Frye  look  at  a  witness  he  was  cross-examining  in 
such  a  way  that  the  poor  fellow  forgot  what  his  name 
was,  and  swore  black  was  white.  Those  eyes  are 


A  PUSH   DOWNWARD  49 

vicious  weapons,  they  say,  and  he  uses  them  to  the 
utmost  when  he  wants  to  scare  a  witness." 

"  They  make  me  feel  creepy  every  time  I  look  at 
them,"  said  Albert,  and  then,  as  if  anxious  to  change 
the  subject,  he  added,  "  Let's  leave  here,  Frank,  and 
you  come  with  me  to  my  room,  where  we  can  have  a 
quiet  talk  together.  I  am  in  the  dumps  to-night,  and 
want  to  unbosom  my  troubles  to  you." 


CHAPTER   VII 

A   SERMON 

"  WHAT  ails  you,  old  man  ?  "  asked  Frank,  after 
they  were  seated  in  Albert's  room  and  were  smoking 
fraternal  pipes ;  "  you  look  as  if  you  had  lost  your 
best  friend." 

"  I  did,  last  June,  as  you  know,"  was  the  rather 
sad  answer,  "  and  on  top  of  that,  I  hate  myself  for 
one  or  two  things ;  for  instance,  the  escapade  we  in 
dulged  in  the  other  night,  and  being  Frye's  slave,  for 
another." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  first,"  responded  Frank ;  "  it  was 
my  fault  that  you  were  coaxed  into  it.  I  won't  do  it 
again,  I  assure  you.  Don't  worry  over  it,  my  boy. 
It  wasn't  anything  serious ;  only  just  a  little  after- 
theatre  fun,  and  hearing  those  sporty  girls  talk  slang." 

"  Yes,  and  spending  a  lot  of  money  for  very  poor 
fun,"  replied  Albert.  "I  don't  think  any  better  of 
myself  for  doing  it,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  about  it  one  way  or  the  other," 
answered  Frank,  "  I  have  so  much  time  to  kill,  and 


A   SERMON  51 

that's  no  worse  than  any  other  way.  We  go  to  the 
theatre  and  see  those  same  girls  half  nude  and  hear 
them  say  just  as  naughty  things  as  they  said  to  us  that 
night,  so  what's  the  harm  ?  We  are  a  little  nearer  to 
them,  that  is  all,  and  pay  extra  for  the  privilege." 

"  Well,  of  course  it's  all  right,  and  as  you  do  not 
think  any  the  less  of  yourself  for  doing  it,  there  is  no 
harm,"  replied  Albert,  "  only  I  do ;  and  so  it  is  worse 
for  me  than  for  you."  Then  he  added,  looking  curi 
ously  at  his  friend,  "Tell  me  honestly,  Frank,  did 
you  enjoy  having  cigarette  smoke  puffed  in  your  face, 
being  called  'Cully,'  and  hearing  silly  brag  about 
'  mashes,'  and  how  they  '  worked  '  some  other  fellow? 
Did  it  occur  to  you  that  those  same  rouge-finished 
queens  of  the  ballet  would  describe  us,  and  how 
they  '  worked '  us  for  a  wine  supper,  to  other  jays,  and 
that  no  doubt  they  have  done  so  to  one  or  a  dozen 
since  that  night?  They  were  pert  and  saucy,  it  is 
true,  and  up  to  date  so  far  as  slang  goes,  but  did  you 
really  enjoy  their  society  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  I  did,"  was  the  sober  answer, 
"  only  there  was  a  spice  of  excitement  about  it,  a  sort 
of  novelty.  I  would  not  want  it  every  night,  how 
ever." 

"  And  while  I  am  about  it,"  continued  Albert,  warm 
ing  up,  "  did  you  notice  that  those  same  fairies  of  the 


52  UNCLE   TEKBY 

footlights  had  been  so  busy  putting  red  paint  on  their 
lips  and  black  lead  on  their  eyelashes  that  they  forgot 
to  use  a  toothbrush,  and  left  their  finger-nails  in  mourn 
ing  ?  And  what  is  more  to  the  point,  was  there  one 
word  they  uttered  that  you  and  I  could  not  have  fore 
stalled  long  before  it  fell  from  their  lips  ?  Now  you 
have  a  mother  and  sisters  who  think  well  of  you,  no 
doubt :  how  would  you  have  felt  to  have  had  any  one 
of  them  peep  in  that  night  and  see  what  manner  of 
company  you  were  in?  My  mother  is  in  her  grave, 
but  maybe  she  could  see  where  I  was  and  with  whom 
I  was  that  evening,  and  the  thought  makes  me  feel 
mean.  I  have  a  sister,  one  of  the  purest  and  sweetest 
little  women  God  ever  blessed  the  earth  with,  and  not 
for  all  that  I  can  earn  in  one  year  would  I  have  her 
know  what  a  foolish  thing  I  did.  For  two  days  I 
was  so  ashamed  of  myself  I  felt  miserably." 

Frank  sat  in  stupefied  silence  at  his  friend's  out 
burst.  "If  I  had  imagined  you  were  going  to  feel 
that  way,  old  man,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  would  never 
have  urged  you  to  go  with  me.  I  never  will  again,  I 
assure  you." 

"Oh,  I  am  as  much  to  blame  as  you,"  observed 
Albert.  "  I  went  willingly,  but  after  it  was  all  over  I 
was  sorry  I  did.  I  am  no  prude,  I  enjoy  a  little  ex 
citement  and  don't  mind  a  social  evening  with  a  few 


A   SEKMON  53 

friends,  but  it  doesn't  pay  to  do  things  you  despise 
yourself  for  the  next  day." 

"But,"  put  in  his  friend  with  a  quizzical  look,  "  do 
you  know  you  are  preaching  a  sermon,  and  I  rather 
enjoy  it,  too  ?  It  sets  me  thinking.  As  for  such 
girls  as  we  wined,  I  don't  care  a  rap  for  them.  If  I 
could  find  any  other  and  better  amusement,  they 
might  go  hang  for  all  I  care.  What  you  say  of  them 
is  true  enough,  arid  I  agree  with  you  they  are  a  profit 
less  lot  of  trash,  but  what  is  a  fellow  going  to  do  to 
kill  time  ?  I  try  tennis  and  golf  with  fellows  and 
girls  in  our  set,  but  that  is  tame  sport.  I  go  to 
4  functions '  once  in  a  while,  and  if  I  dance  twice 
with  a  pretty  girl  who  has  no  dot,  mother  glares  at 
me,  and  says  I've  no  family  pride.  Most  of  the  girls 
talk  silly  nonsense  that  wearies  a  fellow,  and  the 
more  passe  they  are  the  worse  they  gush.  The  only 
thing  I  really  enjoy  that  is  respectable  is  yachting, 
and  then  I  have  trouble  to  find  good  fellows  who 
have  time  to  go  with  me.  Once  in  a  while  I  get 
disgusted  with  myself,  and  wish  I  had  to  work  for  a 
living." 

Albert  looked  surprised.  Was  it  possible  that  this 
young  and  handsome  fellow,  with  dark  brown  honest 
eyes,  curly  black  hair,  and  garb  and  manner  of  refine 
ment,  who  never  had  known  what  it  was  to  work, 


54  UNCLE   TERRY 

really  wanted  to  earn  his  own  way  in  the  world,  just 
from  sheer  ennui  f 

"  Frank,"  he  said  at  last,  "  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
to  talk  so.  You  have  plenty  of  money,  nothing  to 
do  but  enjoy  yourself,  and  yet  you  complain  !  You 
ought  to  have  a  few  months  of  old  Frye.  It  would 
reconcile  you  to  your  lot." 

Frank  looked  sympathetic.  "  Is  he  so  bad  as  that  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  No  worse  than  any  other  old  skinflint  who  feels 
he  owns  you,  body  and  brains,"  replied  Albert,  "but 
I  do  not  want  to  talk  about  him  to-night.  I've  got 
the  blues." 

"  I  am  sorry,  old  man,"  rejoined  Frank  in  a  low 
tone,  "  I  wish  I  could  help  you.  Maybe  I  can  in 
the  near  future." 

Albert  was  silent,  while  the  comparison  of  his  lot 
with  that  of  his  friend  passed  slowly  in  review. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  have  everything  to  be  thankful 
for,  Frank,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  dejected  tone,  —  "  a 
kind  father,  good  home,  plenty  of  friends,  a  nice  yacht, 
all  the  money  you  want,  and  nothing  to  do.  With  me 
it  is  different.  Would  it  bore  you  if  I  unloaded  a 
little  of  my  history  ?  I  feel  like  it  to-night." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answered  Frank,  "  I  would  really  like 
to  hear  it.  I  didn't  know  much  of  your  home  affairs 


A   SERMON  55 

at  college,  and  since  you  came  to  Boston  I  hated  to  ask 
you,  for  fear  you  would  think  me  impertinent." 

"  Well,"  continued  Albert,  "  when  we  were  at  col 
lege  I  was  a  little  too  proud  to  let  you  know  I  was 
the  only  son  of  a  poor  widow  who  was  denying  her 
self  every  luxury  to  educate  me ;  but  it  was  a  fact. 
After  we  separated,  I  tutored  some,  read  law,  and  was 
admitted  to  the  bar.  I  opened  an  office  in  my  native 
town  and  wasted  a  year  waiting  for  clients,  while  I 
read  novels,  sketched,  and  fished,  to  pass  the  time. 
Last  June  my  mother  died  and  left  my  sister  and  me 
an  old  house  that  has  been  in  the  family  over  a  cent 
ury,  a  few  acres  of  meadow  lands,  and  maybe  two 
hundred  dollars  in  debts.  Then  I  wrote  to  you.  I 
was  more  than  grateful  for  the  chance  you  obtained 
for  me  to  work  for  even  such  a  man  as  Frye.  I  am 
paying  those  debts  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  my  sister  is 
helping  by  teaching  in  a  cross-road  schoolhouse  and 
walking  four  miles  each  day  to  do  it." 

"  And  I  coaxed  you  to  go  out  and  spend  money  on 
a  couple  of  ballet  girls  !  "  responded  Frank  regretfully. 
"  Say,  old  man,"  reaching  out  his  hand  and  clasp 
ing  Albert's,  "  if  I  had  known  all  this  that  evening  I 
would  have  bit  my  tongue  before  I  asked  you  to  go 
with  me." 

"  That  is  all  right,"  replied  Albert;  "I  should  have 


56  UNCLE   TERRY 

told  you  that  night  what  I  have  told  you  now,  but 
maybe  I  was  a  little  ashamed  to  do  so." 

"  I  would  like  to  see  that  brave  sister  of  yours," 
said  Frank  after  a  pause.  "  From  what  you  tell  me, 
she  must  be  a  trump." 

Albert  made  no  answer,  but  going  to  the  mantel  he 
took  a  framed  photograph  that  stood  there  and  handed 
it  to  his  friend.  It  was  a  picture  of  a  young  girl 
with  a  face  like  an  artist's  dream  and  eyes  like  two 
pansies. 

Frank  gazed  at  it  long  and  earnestly.  "  Your 
sister,  I  suppose,"  he  said  at  last,  still  looking  at  the 
face.  "  I  do  not  wonder  you  preached  me  the  sermon 
you  have  this  evening.  You  must  be  proud  of  her." 

When  it  came  time  for  him  to  go  the  two  shook 
hands  with  a  warmer  clasp  than  ever,  and  when  he 
was  gone  the  little  room  did  not  seem  quite  so  cheer 
less  to  its  occupant  as  before. 

Albert  Page  had  builded  wiser  than  he  knew. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A  HELPING   HAND 

"  I  SHOULD  like  to  be  excused  to-morrow  forenoon, 
Mr.  Frye,"  said  Albert  a  few  days  later.  "  Frank 
has  promised  to  introduce  me  to  his  father." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Frye,  cheerfully,  "  take  the 
entire  day,  if  you  wish,  and  if  you  have  a  good 
chance  try  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Maud 
Vernon,  a  cashier  in  Mr.  Nason's  store,  or  at  least 
take  a  good  look  at  her.  She  is  the  key  that  will  un 
lock  the  information  I  need,  and  I  shall  depend  upon 
you  to  obtain  it." 

"  I  will  keep  my  eyes  open,"  replied  Albert  aloud, 
mentally  resolving  that  it  would  not  be  in  the  interest 
of  Frye  and  his  sinister  plot.  The  next  day  he  met 
Frank  by  appointment,  and  the  two  called  upon  John 
Nason  at  his  office.  Albert  was  greeted  cordially, 
and,  after  an  exchange  of  commonplaces,  soon  found 
himself  being  interrogated  by  a  series  of  questions 
pertaining  to  his  home  and  college  life,  his  knowledge 
of  law,  and  how  he  liked  his  present  employer,  all  of 


58  UNCLE   TERRY 

which  with  their  answers,  not  being  pertinent  to  the 
thread  of  this  narrative,  need  not  be  quoted.  They 
were  for  a  purpose,  however,  as  all  of  John  Nason's  busi 
ness  questions  were,  and  at  their  conclusion  he  said: 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  met  you,  Mr.  Page.  My  son 
has  spoken  in  the  highest  terms  of  you,  and  what  has 
interested  me  more,  Mr.  Frye  has  also.  He  does  not 
usually  bestow  much  praise  on  any  one,  but  is  more 
apt  to  sneer.  After  you  are  a  little  better  acquainted 
with  legal  proceedings  here,  come  and  see  me.  I  may 
be  able  to  do  something  for  you.  You  might,1'  ad 
dressing  Frank,  as  if  to  end  the  interview,  "  show  Mr. 
Page  over  the  store  now;  it  may  interest  him." 

After  an  hour  spent  walking  through  the  vast 
human  hive,  where  over  one  thousand  clerks  and 
salesgirls  were  employed,  the  two  friends  returned  to 
their  club  for  lunch. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  old  gent  ?  "  asked 
Frank,  as  he  sat  down. 

"I  like  him,"  was  the  answer;  "he  talks  to  the 
purpose,  though,  and  I  fancy  his  rapid-fire  questions 
were  for  an  object." 

"  You  may  be  sure  they  were,"  replied  Frank, 
"  and,  what  is  more,  I  saw  by  his  expression  that  you 
had  made  a  good  impression.  Do  you  know  what  I 
did  the  other  day  ?  I  told  him  all  about  our  escapade 


A   HELPING    HAND  59 

with  the  two  fairies,  and  repeated  all  I  could  recall 
of  the  sermon  you  preached  about  it." 

Albert  looked  astonished. 

" I  am  sorry  you  did  that,"  he  said  ;  "he  must  have 
thought  me  very  weak  not  to  have  refused  in  the  first 
place.  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  much,"  replied  Frank  ;  "he  laughed,  and 
said  he  guessed  the  closer  I  stuck  to  you,  the  better  I 
would  behave  myself." 

"  Do  you  make  a  practice  of  confessing  all  your 
larks  to  your  father  ?  "  observed  Albert. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  conceal  much,"  answered  Frank 
laughingly ;  "  he  and  I  are  the  best  of  friends,  and  he 
is  so  good  to  me  I  haven't  the  heart  to  deceive  him. 
I  had  an  object  in  telling  him  of  our  racket,  however ; " 
and  then  after  a  pause,  "  I  wish  you  were  to  be  at 
liberty  this  afternoon,  Bert ;  I  am  going  to  take  the 
'  Gypsy '  round  to  Beverly  to  her  winter  quarters  and 
I'd  like  your  company." 

"Well,  I  can  go  if  I've  a  mind  to,"  answered 
Albert;  "Frye  said  I  might  take  a  day  off  if  I 
wished." 

Frank  looked  astonished.  "  Isn't  he  in  danger  of 
heart-failure  ?  "  he  said ;  "  the  old  buzzard  must  be 
getting  stuck  on  you,  I  should  say." 

When  the  two  had  boarded  the  yacht,  and  while 


60  UNCLE   TERRY 

the  engineer  was  getting  up  steam,  Frank  showed 
his  guest  all  over  that  craft. 

"I  am  surprised  at  the  size  of  your  boat,"  said 
Albert;  awhy,  she  is  large  enough  for  an  ocean 
voyage." 

"We  may  take  one  in  her  some  day,"  replied 
Frank ;  "  stranger  things  have  happened.  I  believe 
she  cost  over  eighty  thousand  dollars,  but  dad  bought 
her  for  less  than  half  that  at  an  assignee's  sale." 

When  steam  was  up  they  took  a  run  out  around 
Minot's  Light  and  across  to  Cape  Ann,  and  as  the 
day  was  a  delightful  one,  Albert  enjoyed  it  im 
mensely. 

"  I  can't  imagine  a  more  charming  way  of  spending 
a  summer  than  to  have  such  a  craft  as  this  and  a  well- 
chosen  party  of  friends  for  company,  and  go  where 
you  like.  Why,  it  would  seem  like  a  dream  of  life 
in  an  enchanted  world  to  me." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  ran  in  past 
Baker's  Island,  and  at  Beverly  they  went  ashore,  and 
leaving  the  crew  to  moor  the  yacht  in  the  stream  be 
tween  the  two  bridges,  returned  to  Boston. 

It  was  almost  Thanksgiving  time  ere  Albert  saw 
Mr.  Nason  again,  and  then  one  day  Frank  said  to 
him:  "I  want  you  to  call  on  dad  to-morrow.  He 
wants  to  see  you." 


A  HELPING  HAND  61 

It  came  as  a  most  agreeable  surprise  to  Albert, 
and  yet,  as  he  entered  that  magnate's  palatial  store 
the  next  day,  he  did  not  dare  to  allow  himself  to  hope 
that  it  would  mean  anything  to  him.  He  took  the 
elevator  to  the  fourth  floor,  where  Mr.  Nason's  private 
office  was,  and  with  beating  heart  entered.  His 
greeting  was  more  cordial  than  before,  and  Mr.  Nason, 
who,  it  may  be  observed,  was  a  man  that  went  about 
business  as  a  woodcutter  chops  a  tree,  said : 

"Are  you  under  contract  or  obligation  to  remain 
with  Mr.  Frye  any  specified  time,  Mr.  Page?" 

"Nothing  more  than  to  give  him  a  reasonable 
notice  that  I  wish  to  quit,"  replied  Albert;  "I  am 
paid  so  much  a  month  4  for  the  present,'  as  he  put  it 
when  I  went  there,  and  I  certainly  shall  leave  him  as 
soon  as  I  see  any  chance  of  bettering  myself." 

"  That  being  the  case,  I  see  no  reason  why  you 
cannot  entertain  the  proposition  I  have  decided  to 
make  you,"  said  the  merchant,  "which  is  that  you 
sever  your  relations  with  Mr.  Frye  between  now  and 
the  first  of  the  year,  and  then  take  hold  and  see  what 
you  can  do  in  looking  after  my  legal  matters.  The 
fact  is,  Mr.  Page,  as  I  intimated  to  you  a  short  time 
ago,  I  am  not  entirely  satisfied  with  Mr.  Frye.  Just 
why  need  not  be  considered  now.  The  only  point  is, 
do  you  feel  yourself  capable  of  acting  as  my  attorney 


62  UNCLE   TERRY 

and  assuming  charge  of  any  law  business  that  may- 
arise  ?" 

44  Well,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  of  the  law  goes," 
replied  Albert,  "  I  passed  a  good  examination  when 
I  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  I  had  some  practice  in 
Sandgate,  and  since  I've  been  with  Frye  I've  learned 
a  good  deal  of  the  usual  procedure  here.  I  think  I 
can  do  all  that  is  necessary." 

"My  needs  in  a  legal  line  are  not  complicated," 
continued  Mr.  Nason ;  "  it  is  mostly  looking  up  deeds 
and  making  transfers,  seeing  that  titles  are  clear,  etc. 
You  will  have  to  watch  the  custom  officers,  and  there 
are  more  or  less  collections  to  be  made.  Occasionally 
I  have  to  resort  to  the  courts,  but  try  to  avoid  them 
as  much  as  possible." 

"  I  think  I  could  attend  to  all  such  matters  to  your 
satisfaction,"  said  Albert  confidently ;  "  they  are  not 
hard  tasks:" 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Nason.  "  I  have  decided, 
partly  at  the  request  of  my  son  and  partly  from  my 
own  estimate  of  your  ability,  to  give  you  the  trial. 
I  will  pay  you  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  per  annum 
to  look  after  my  needs,  and  you  are  also  at  liberty  to 
take  such  other  business  as  comes  to  you  so  long  as 
you  do  not  neglect  mine." 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Nason,  for  this  offer,"  replied 


A  HELPING   HAND  63 

Albert,  rising  and  proffering  his  hand,  "  and  I  accept 
gladly  and  will  devote  all  my  time,  if  need  be,  to 
your  service." 

"Very  good,"  responded  Mr.  Nason;  "separate 
yourself  from  Frye  at  once,  or  between  now  and  the 
new  year,  and  in  the  meantime  I  would  suggest  that 
you  rent  a  suitable  office.  There  are  one  or  two 
vacant  in  a  building  I  own  on  Water  street  that  will 
serve  very  well,  and  when  you  are  through  with  Mr. 
Frye,  come  and  see  me.  I  shall  consider  you  in  my 
employ  from  now  on,  and  as  you  may  need  funds  in 
fitting  up  your  office,  I  will  advance  you  a  little  on 
your  salary,"  and  without  further  comment  he  turned 
to  his  desk  and  wrote  and  handed  Albert  a  check  for 
five  hundred  dollars.  "I  should  prefer,"  he  added 
hastily,  as  if  to  prevent  any  word  of  thanks,  "that 
you  make  no  mention  whatever  of  our  agreement  to 
Mr.  Frye,  or  in  fact  to  any  one,  until  after  January 
first."  Then  rising  and  offering  his  hand  to  Albert 
as  if  to  dismiss  him,  he  added: 

"  Come  out  to  my  house  any  evening,  Mr.  Page ; 
we  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  and  I  am  usually  at  home." 

There  are  moments  when  our  emotions  nullify  all 
attempts  at  speech,  and  to  Albert  Page,  who  before 
had  felt  himself  alone  and  almost  friendless  in  a  great 
city,  this  was  such  a  one. 


64  UNCLE   TERRY 

"Never  mind  the  thanks  now,"  said  Mr.  Nason, 
as  he  saw  Albert's  agitation ;  "  put  your  thanks  into 
your  work,  and  in  a  year  we  will  talk  it  over." 

"  And  this  is  the  man  I  had  almost  hired  myself  out 
to  spy  upon!"  said  Albert  to  himself  as  he  left  the 
store. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SHARP  PRACTICE 

FOR-  a  few  days  after  his  interview  with  John 
Nason  Albert  tried  to  find  some  plausible  excuse  for 
leaving  Frye.  He  did  not  want  to  make  an  enemy 
of  him,  and  more  especially  now  that  he  was  to  succeed 
him  as  John  Nason's  legal  adviser.  He  knew  that 
Frye  would  know  he  could  not  easily  better  himself, 
and  would  reason  that,  unknown  and  without  money 
in  a  great  city  as  he  was,  it  would  be  some  unusual 
opening  that  would  make  him  turn  away  from  what 
Frye  considered  a  large  salary.  Then  again,  he  had 
promised  Mr.  Nason  not  to  disclose  their  agreement 
to  Frye,  and  more  than  that,  he  felt  in  honor  bound 
not  to  let  Frye  even  suspect  it.  It  was  while  per 
plexed  with  the  situation  and  trying  to  solve  it  that 
it  solved  itself  in  an  unexpected  way. 

Frye  was  out  that  day,  and  Albert  was,  as  he  had 
been  for  three  days,  thinking  how  to  escape,  when  a 
red-faced  and  rather  bellicose  sort  of  a  man  came  in 
and  inquired  for  Frye. 


66  UNCLE   TERRY 

"  My  name  is  Staples,"  he  said,  "  and  I've  got  a 
lawsuit  on  my  hands.  I've  laid  the  facts  before  your 
partner,  I  s'pose,  but  I  thought  I'd  just  drop  in  and 
give  him  a  few  pointers  that  might  help  my  case." 

"  What  is  your  case  ?  "  asked  Albert,  a  little  amused 
at  being  taken  for  Frye's  partner. 

"  Wai,  the  facts  are,"  replied  Staples,  "  I've  had  to 
sue  a  miserable  whelp  in  self-defence..  I  live  in  Lynn- 
field.  It's  a  small  place  about  ten  miles  out,  and  last 
spring  I  bought  the  good  will,  stock  in  trade,  an'  all 
of  a  man  by  the  name  of  Hunt,  who  was  in  the  meat 
business.  He  signed  a  paper,  too,  agreein'  not  to  en 
gage  in  the  business  in  or  within  ten  miles  o'  Lynn- 
field  for  a  period  o'  five  years,  and  a  month  ago  he 
opened  a  shop  almost  'cross  the  street  from  me  and  is 
cuttin'  my  prices  right  and  left,  confound  him." 

"  And  you  are  bringing  an  action  for  breach  of  con 
tract  ?  "  interposed  Albert,  thinking  to  have  a  little  fun 
at  the  expense  of  his  caller. 

"  I'm  a-suin'  him  for  ten  thousand  dollars'  damage, 
if  that's  what  you  mean,"  replied  the  belligerent 
Staples.  "  I  won't  get  it  all,  but  then,  as  your  partner 
said,  we  may  get  more  than  if  we  sued  for  less.  Law's 
a  big  game  of  bluff,  I  reckon." 

Albert  smiled.  "  And  so  you  are  basing  your  suit 
on  this  signed  agreement,  are  you?"  he  said;  "well, 


SHARP  PRACTICE  67 

you  might  as  well  stop  just  now,  for  you  have   no 
case  in  law,  though  no  doubt  a  good  one  in  justice." 

"  But  the  agreement  is  all  signed  and  witnessed," 
exclaimed  Staples,  "and  Mr.  Frye  said  I  had  good 
reason  to  bring  suit,  and  I've  paid  him  two  hundred 
dollars  on  account  to  do  it." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Albert,  realizing  he  had  put 
his  foot  in  it,  so  to  speak,  uand  perhaps  you  have 
other  grounds  to  base  a  suit  for  damages  on,  but  as 
for  the  agreement  this  man  Hunt  signed,  it's  of  no 
value  whatever." 

"  Then  why  in  thunder  did  Frye  tell  me  I  had  a 
good  case,  and  take  my  money?"  gasped  the  irate 
Staples. 

"  That  I  can't  say,"  replied  Albert,  foreseeing  the 
rumpus  he  had  started,  "  you'd  better  come  to-morrow 
and  have  a  talk  with  him.  He  may  have  seen  some 
loophole  for  you  to  win  out  through  that  I  do  not 
see,  but  so  far  as  your  agreement  goes,  it's  not  worth 
the  paper  it's  written  on." 

When  the  law-thirsty  Staples  had  departed  it 
dawned  upon  Albert  that  he  had  unintentionally 
paved  the  way  for  his  own  escape  from  Frye.  "  I'll 
stay  away  to-morrow,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  let 
Staples  get  in  his  work,  and  then  face  the  inevitable 
storm  that  I  have  started."  He  had  surmised  the 


68  UNCLE   TERRY 

results  accurately,  for  when,  two  days  later,  he  pur 
posely  reached  the  office  late,  Frye  did  not  even  bid 
him  good  morning. 

"Where  were  you  yesterday?"  he  said  curtly,  as 
Albert  entered. 

"  I  was  availing  myself  of  your  express  wish  that  I 
cultivate  young  Nason,"  was  the  answer.  "  We  went 
to  Beverly  to  see  to  the  housing-in  of  his  yacht  for  the 
winter." 

"  And  what  did  you  say  to  Mr.  Staples  the  day 
before,  I  would  like  to  know?"  continued  Frye  in  a 
sneering  tone.  "  He  has  retained  me  for  an  action 
for  breach  of  contract,  and  you  have  told  him  he  had 
no  grounds  for  suit.  He  came  in  yesterday,  mad 
as  a  wet  hen,  and  wanted  his  money  back.  Are  you 
a  fool?" 

"  Maybe  I  am,"  replied  Albert,  trying  hard  to  keep 
cool,  "  but  I  do  not  care  to  be  told  of  it.  Mr.  Staples 
explained  his  case  to  me,  and  I  inadvertently  told  him 
that  the  agreement  he  held  was  of  no  value  in  law, 
which  is  the  truth." 

"  And  what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  "  said  Frye,  with 
biting  sarcasm.  "  I  didn't  hire  you  to  tell  the  truth 
and  lose  me  a  paying  client.  If  that  is  your  idea  of 
law  practice  you  had  better  go  back  to  Sandgate  and 
hoe  corn  for  a  living.  I  knew  very  well  his  agreement 


SHARP   PRACTICE  69 

was  of  no  value,  but  that  was  a  matter  for  him  to  find 
out,  not  for  us  to  tell  him.  You  have  made  a  mess  of 
it  now,  and  lost  me  several  hundred  dollars  in  fees." 

Albert  had  remained  standing  through  all  this  ti 
rade,  and  looking  squarely  at  his  irate  employer. 

"  You  need  not  say  any  more,"  he  put  in,  when 
Frye  had  paused  for  breath ;  "  if  you  will  further 
oblige  me  with  a  check  for  the  small  balance  due  me, 
I  will  not  again  upset  your  plans.  You  need  not," 
he  added,  feeling  himself  blush,  "  consider  that  you 
owe  me  any  part  of  the  increase  you  recently  promised. 
I  do  not  want  it." 

It  was  Frye's  turn  to  be  astonished  now.  That  this 
verdant  limb  of  the  law,  as  he  considered  Albert  to  be, 
could  have  the  manliness  to  show  any  resentment  at 
his  scourging,  and  what  was  more  surprising,  coolly 
resign  a  good  position,  he  could  not  understand.  For 
a  few  minutes  the  two  looked  at  each  other,  and  then 
Frye,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  weakened  first. 

"You  are  foolish,"  he  said,  in  a  modified  tone,  "to 
act  so  hastily.  Perhaps  I  have  spoken  rather  rudely, 
but  you  must  admit  you  gave  me  provocation.  Do 
not  throw  away  a  good  chance  for  a  few  hasty  words." 

"  I  do  not  care  to  discuss  it,"  answered  Albert 
firmly  ;  "  the  role  of  private  detective  that  you  want 
me  to  assume  is  not  to  my  taste,  anyway,  and  your 


70  UNCLE   TERRY 

words  have  convinced  me  we  can  never  get  along 
together.  I  will  not  remain  longer  on  any  terms." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  now  ?  "  sneered  Frye,  a  sin 
ister  look  entering  his  yellow  eyes,  "  steal  or  starve  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  replied  Albert  defiantly ;  "  I'll  go  back 
to  Sandgate  and  hoe  corn  first." 

Then,  as  a  realizing  sense  of  how  much  he  was  in 
the  power  of  this  courageous  stripling  came  to  Frye, 
his  arrogance  all  melted,  and  as  he  turned  and  began 
to  play  with  a  paper-cutter  he  said  meekly  : 

"Come,  Mr.  Page,  overlook  it  all.  I  spoke  too 
hastily,  and  I  apologize." 

It  was  the  guilty  coward  conquering  the  brute 
instinct,  but  it  availed  not. 

"  Will  you  oblige  me  with  the  small  balance  due 
me  to-day,"  asked  Albert,  "  or  shall  I  call  again  for 
it?" 

"  And  if  we  part  company  now,"  muttered  Frye, 
"  what  am  I  to  expect  ?  Are  you  to  be  a  friend  or  an 
enemy  ?  " 

"If  you  refer  to  your  scheme  to  blackmail  John 
Nason,"  replied  Albert  resolutely,  and  not  mincing 
words,  "  I  am  too  ashamed  to  think  I  ever  listened  to 
your  proposals  to  even  speak  of  it." 

It  was  a  hard  blow  and  made  Frye  wince,  for  it 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  been  openly  called  a 


SHARP   PRACTICE  71 

villain,  but,  craven  hypocrite  that  he  was,  he  made 
no  protest.  Instead,  he  silently  wrote  a  check  for 
Albert's  due  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"I  am  much  obliged,  Mr.  Frye.  Good  morning, 
sir,"  said  Albert  in  a  chilly  tone,  and  putting  on  his 
hat,  he  left  the  office. 

When  the  door  was  closed  behind  him  he  turned, 
shook  his  fist  at  it,  and  muttered :  "  You  miserable  old 
villainous  vulture !  I  am  glad  I  saved  one  victim 
from  being  robbed  by  you !  " 

But  Albert  cooled  off  in  time.     We  always  do. 

That  night  when  he  met  Frank  at  the  club  he 
grasped  one  of  that  young  man's  hands  in  both  of 
his  and  as  he  shook  it,  exclaimed : 

"  If  you  were  Alice  now,  I  would  hug  and  kiss 
you ! " 

"  Well,"  responded  Frank,  "  if  you  were  Alice  now, 
all  I  can  say  is,  it  would  meet  my  entire  approbation ; 
but  tell  me  what  ails  you  ?  Have  you  had  a  fortune 
left  you?" 

"  Yes  and  no,"  replied  Albert ;  "  your  father  has 
given  me  the  chance  of  a  lifetime  and  I  am  free  from 
old  Frye.  I  have  you  to  thank  for  the  chance,  I  am 
sure." 

"  Well,  I  put  in  a  good  word  for  you  when  I  had 
the  opportunity,"  said  Frank  modestly,  "  and  the  ser- 


72  UNCLE   TERRY 

mon  you  preached  me  once,  and  which  I  reported  to 
dad,  may  have  had  some  weight  with  him." 

In  a  week  Albert  had  his  office  fitted  up,  and  then 
he  presented  himself  to  John  Nason,  and  after  that 
he  not  only  had  all  the  responsibility  thrust  upon  him 
that  he  was  able  to  assume,  but  he  no  longer  felt  him 
self  in  the  position  of  a  menial.  To  one  of  his  proud 
spirit  it  meant  self-respect,  life,  and  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  X 

AMID   THE   GREEN  MOUNTAINS 

THERE  are  two  characteristics  sure  to  be  found 
among  the  residents  of  a  small  country  village,  and 
those  are  kindness  of  heart  and  a  love  of  gossip.  The 
former  showed  itself  in  Sandgate  when  Albert  Page 
went  to  those  his  family  were  indebted  to,  and,  with 
much  humiliation  to  himself,  asked  them  to  wait. 
Mr.  Hobbs'  reply  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  quote,  as 
it  was  a  reflex  of  all  the  others. 

"Don't  ye  worry  one  whit,  Mr.  Page,"  he  said; 
"  take  your  own  time,  an'  if  it's  a  year  it's  no  matter. 
The  only  reason  I  called  with  the  bill  was  because  it's 
customary  when  an  estate  is  bein'  settled.  Tell  your 
folks  I  expect  and  want  'em  to  keep  right  on  tradin* 
with  me." 

When  Alice  appealed  to  Mr.  Mears  she  also  met 
only  the  kindest  of  words. 

"Ye  can  drive  back  an'  forth,  an'  not  be  away 
from  home  over  night,"  said  he,  "till  snow  comes, 
an'  then  I'll  git  ye  a  boardin'-place  clus  by  the 


74  UNCLE  TERRY 

schoolhouse  and  fetch  and  cany  ye  Mondays  and 
Fridays." 

The  love  of  gossip  showed  itself  as  distinctly  in  a 
general  discussion  by  the  townsfolk  of  the  affairs  of 
the  Pages.  For  a  month  after  Albert  had  gone  away 
and  Alice  had  begun  teaching,  they  were  the  subject 
of  much  after-church  and  sewing-circle  talk. 

"  If  Alice  could  only  git  married  now,"  observed 
Mrs.  Mears,  who  was  perhaps  the  leader  among  the 
gossips  in  Sandgate,  "it  'ud  be  the  most  fortunit 
thing  that  could  happen,  but  she  holds  her  head  perty 
middlin'  high  for  a  poor  girl,  which  p'raps  is  nat'ral, 
she  comin'  from  one  o'  the  oldest  families.  They  say 
there  wa'n't  nothin'  left  to  either  on  'em  when  the 
Widder  Page  died,  an'  the  wonder  is  how  she  managed 
to  git  along  as  well  as  she  did." 

Fortunately  none  of  this  gossip,  of  which  Mrs. 
Mears'  remarks  are  only  a  sample,  reached  Alice,  for 
she  had  enough  to  bear  as  it  was.  The  vexations  of 
an  effort  to  pound  the  rudiments  of  an  education  into 
the  heads  of  two  dozen  or  so  barefooted  boys  and 
girls  that  comprised  her  charge  were  far  less  hard  to 
bear  than  the  desolation  of  a  home  bereft  of  mother 
and  brother.  Occasionally  some  one  of  the  neighbors 
would  drop  in  of  an  evening,  or  one  or  two  of  her 
girl  friends  come  and  stay  all  night.  On  Sundays 


AMID  THE   GKEEN  MOUNTAINS  75 

she  was,  as  she  always  had  been,  a  regular  attend 
ant  at  the  village  church,  where  she  formed  one 
of  the  choir.  She  had  never  encouraged  the  atten 
tions  of  any  of  the  young  men,  who  mostly  wore  the 
habiliments  of  farmers  on  week  days  and  worse-fitting 
ones  on  Sundays,  which  accounted  for  Mrs.  Hears' 
remark  that  "  she  held  her  head  perty  middlin'  high." 
It  was  true  in  a  way,  not  from  any  false  pride,  but 
rather  because  Alice  was  of  a  more  refined  and  fastid 
ious  nature  than  those  who  "  would  a-wooing  go." 

She  was  like  a  flower  herself,  not  only  in  looks, 
but  in  delicacy  of  feeling  and  sentiment,  and  her 
sweet  face,  sheltered  by  a  mourning-hat  on  Sunday  at 
church,  was  a  magnet  that  drew  the  eyes  of  many  a 
village  swain.  The  days  and  weeks  of  her  new  life 
as  a  teacher  passed  in  uneventful  procession  until 
one  by  one  the  leaves  had  fallen  from  the  two  big  elm 
trees  in  front  of  the  desolate  home,  the  meadows  were 
but  level  fields  of  snow,  and  Christmas  was  only  two 
weeks  away.  Then  she  received  a  letter  from  the 
absent  brother  that  caused  her  heart  to  beat  with 
unusual  excitement.  It  read: 

DEAR  Sis:  Three  weeks  ago  I  received  a  most  flattering 
proposal  from  Mr.  Nason,  Frank's  father,  who  offered  me  a 
good  salary  to  take  charge  of  his  law  business,  and  also  the 
chance  to  accept  anything  else  that  came  my  way.  1  have  a 


76  UNCLE   TERRY 

nice  office  now  in  a  block  he  owns,  and  am  so  busy  I  do  not 
find  time  to  write  to  you  even.  It's  an  opening  of  a  lifetime, 
and  I  owe  it  mainly  to  Frank.  Now  I  am  so  homesick  I  am 
coming  up  to  spend  Christmas  with  you,  and  I've  invited 
Frank  to  come  also.  We  shall  be  up  the  day  before  and  stay 
till  the  Monday  after.  Frank  has  done  so  much  for  me  that  I 
want  to  entertain  him  in  the  best  way  possible.  He  knows  ab 
solutely  nothing  about  country  life,  and  it  may  be  dull  for  him, 
but  he  seems  desirous  of  coming,  and  so  I  want  you  to  help  me 
to  make  it  cheerful  for  him.  To  be  candid,  sis,  I  think  the 
chance  to  see  you,  whom  he  has  heard  me  say  so  much  about, 
is  the  real  loadstone.  I  enclose  a  bit  of  paper,  and  I  want  you 
to  use  it  all  in  any  way  you  wish. 

It  was  a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars  ! 

It  was  not  strange  that  at  school  next  day  Alice's 
thoughts  were  not  on  the  recitations,  and  when  one 
boy  spelled  beauty  "  b-o-o-t-i-e,"  and  raised  a  laugh, 
she  did  not  understand  why  it  was.  Children  are  in 
some  ways  as  keen  as  briers,  and  her  pupils  soon  dis 
covered  that  "  teacher "  was  absent-minded  and  they 
whispered  right  and  left.  When  she  discovered  it  she 
didn't  have  the  heart  to  punish  them,  and  was  glad 
when  the  time  came  to  dismiss  school. 

The  instinct  of  her  sex  was  strong  within  her, 
however,  and  that  night  she  said  to  Aunt  Susan: 

"  Do  you  think,  auntie,  we  could  manage  between 
us  to  make  up  some  sort  of  a  pretty  house-dress  ?  Of 


AMID   THE   GREEK   MOUNTAINS  77 

course  I  must  wear  black  when  I  go  out,  but  it  would 
be  no  harm  to  wear  something  brighter  at  home.  I 
could  get  some  delicate  gray  cashmere,  and  Mrs. 
Sloper  can  cut  and  fit  it,  and  you  and  I  can  make  it 
evenings.  I  want  a  sort  of  house-gown  trimmed  with 
satin.  I  wish  I  dared  to  have  a  new  hat  for  church, 
with  a  little  color  in  it,  —  my  mourning-bonnet  makes 
me  look  so  old,  —  but  I  am  afraid  people  would  talk." 

The  feminine  fear  of  looking  old  was  needless  in 
her  case. 

But  how  the  days  dragged,  and  how  many  times  she 
counted  them  to  see  how  many  more  were  to  pass  ere 
that  dearly  beloved  brother  was  to  arrive  I  And  what 
sort  of  a  looking  fellow  was  this  Frank  ?  she  wondered. 
She  hoped  he  was  tall  and  dark,  not  too  tall,  but  good 
and  stout.  And  how  could  she  ever  entertain  them  ? 
She  could  play  and  sing  a  few  pretty  ballads,  and 
any  number  of  hymns,  but  as  for  conversation  she 
felt  herself  wholly  deficient.  Of  the  world  of  art, 
literature,  and  the  drama  she  knew  but  little.  She 
had  read  a  good  many  novels,  it  is  true,  and  had  seen 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  "  East  Lynne,"  and  one  or  two 
other  tear-moving  dramas  played  in  the  town  hall,  but 
that  was  all.  She  had  never  even  journeyed  as  far  as 
Boston  or  New  York.  "  He  will  think  me  as  green 
as  the  hills  around  us,"  she  thought  ruefully,  "but  I 


78  UNCLE   TERRY 

can't  help  it.  I  can  cook  some  nice  things  for  him  to 
eat,  anyhow,  and  Bert  must  do  the  talking.  I  wonder 
if  he  plays  the  piano.  I  hope  not,  for  if  he  does  I'll 
not  touch  it." 

Christmas  came  on  Thursday  that  year  and  her 
school  was  to  close  for  a  week  on  the  Friday  before. 
She  had  a  little  plan  in  her  mind,  and  the  last  day  of 
school  she  called  on  two  of  the  big  boys  to  help  her. 

"  My  brother  is  coming  home  to  spend  Christmas," 
she  said  to  them,  u  and  I  want  a  lot  of  ground-pine  to 
trim  up  the  house.  Will  you  bring  me  some  ?  " 

If  there  is  anything  that  will  touch  a  country  boy's 
heart  it  is  to  have  "  teacher  "  —  and  especially  a  young 
and  pretty  teacher  —  ask  him  to  go  for  ground-pine  ; 
so  it  is  needless  to  say  that  Alice  was  supplied  with  an 
ample  outfit  of  that  graceful  vine.  More  than  that, 
they  begged  for  the  privilege  of  helping  her  festoon 
it,  and  when  long  ropes  of  it  were  draped  over  the 
windows  and  above  the  fireplace  in  the  big  parlor,  and 
the  hall  and  dining-room  received  the  same  decoration, 
the  house  presented  a  cheerful  appearance.  The  cul 
inary  department  was  not  neglected  either,  and  a 
great  store  of  pies,  frosted  cake,  and  doughnuts  was 
prepared. 

" 1  do  not  know  what  I  should  do  without  you, 
Aunt  Susan,"  the  fair  young  hostess  said  the  day 


AMID  THE  GREEN  MOUNTAINS        79 

before  the  guests  were  to  arrive ;  "  I  couldn't  do  this 
all  alone,  and  I  want  to  give  Bert  a  welcome." 

It  may  be  surmised  that  consideration  for  that  big 
brother  was  not  the  sole  force  that  moved  her,  but 
the  veil  that  shelters  the  heart  of  a  sweet  young  girl 
must  not  be  rudely  drawn  aside.  She  had  written : 
"  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  do  all  in  my  power,  in 
my  poor  way,  to  entertain  your  friend  who  has  done 
so  much  for  you,"  and  we  will  let  that  disclosure  of 
gratitude  suffice. 


CHAPTER   XI 

BY   THE   FIRESIDE 

"  You  must  not  expect  much  excitement  up  in 
Sandgate,"  Albert  said  to  his  friend  the  day  they 
started  for  that  quiet  village.  "  It  is  a  small  place, 
and  all  the  people  do  in  the  winter  is  to  chop  wood, 
shovel  snow,  eat,  and  go  to  meeting.  We  shall  go 
sleighing  and  I  shall  take  you  to  church  to  be  stared 
at,  and  for  the  rest  Alice  and  Aunt  Susan  will  give 
us  plenty  to  eat." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  this  same  Alice,  whose 
picture  had  so  interested  him,  was  the  attraction 
which  made  young  Nason  glad  to  accept  his  friend's 
cordial  invitation,  and  then  he  really  felt  a  very 
warm  friendship  for  that  friend.  It  is  likely  that 
the  perfect  sincerity  and  wholesome  ideas  of  Albert 
attracted  and  held  his  rather  more  pliable  and  easy 
going  nature.  The  strong  attract  the  weak,  among 
men,  and  Frank  Nason,  never  having  been  hardened 
by  adversity,  looked  up  to  and  admired  the  man  who 
had  courage  and  perseverance.  He  wondered  if  Alice 


BY  THE   FIRESIDE  81 

was  like  him,  and  rather  hoped  not.  It  was  nearly 
dark  and  snowing  when  they  reached  Sandgate,  and 
when  he  saw  a  plump  girlish  figure  with  slightly 
whitened  garments  rush  forward,  almost  jump  into 
his  friend's  arms,  and  kiss  him  vehemently,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  a  welcome  home  by  such  a  sister  was 
worth  coming  many  miles  for. 

Then  he  heard  his  name  mumbled  in  a  hurried 
introduction  and,  as  he  raised  his  hat,  saw  this  girl 
withdraw  a  small  hand  from  a  mitten  and  offer  it  to 
him. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Nason,"  she  said 
with  a  bright  smile;  "my  brother  has  told  me  so 
much  about  you  I  feel  almost  acquainted."  And 
then,  turning  to  that  brother,  she  added:  "  I  have 
the  horse  hitched  outside,  Bert,  so  we  will  go  right 
home." 

She  led  the  way,  and  when  they  had  stowed  their 
belongings  in  the  sleigh  she  said,  "  You  can  hold  me 
in  your  lap,  Bert,  and  I'll  drive.  I'm  used  to  it  now." 
She  chirruped  to  the  rather  docile  horse,  and  as  the 
bells  began  to  jingle  she  added  :  "  What  have  you  got 
in  that  box,  Bertie  ?  " 

"  Ask  me  no  questions  and  I'll  tell  you  no  fibs,  Miss 
Curious,"  he  answered.  "  Wait  until  to-morrow  and 
then  I'll  show  you." 


82  UNCLE   TERRY 

When  they  drove  into  the  yard  he  said:  "Take 
Frank  right  in,  sis,  and  I'll  unharness." 

It  was  quite  dark  now,  but  Frank  noticed,  as  he 
gathered  up  the  bags  and  bundles  and  followed  his 
hostess,  that  the  rather  stately  house  was  aglow  with 
light. 

"  Leave  your  hat  and  coat  here  in  the  hall,  Mr. 
Nason,"  she  said  cordially,  "and  go  right  into  the 
parlor  and  get  warm.  You  will  kindly  excuse  me 
now.  I'm  first  and  second  girl,  housemaid  and  cook, 
and  I  must  go  and  help  Aunt  Susan  to  get  supper 
ready.  You  two  gentlemen  are  hungry,  I'm  sure." 

It  was  not  a  formal  reception,  but  it  was  a  cordial 
one,  which  was  better,  and  when  Frank  entered  the 
parlor  he  was  surprised  at  the  cheerful  sight,  for  the 
room  was  festooned  all  around  with  ropes  of  ever 
green.  The  long  mantel  over  the  fireplace,  bright 
with  flames,  was  banked  with  a  mass  of  green,  and 
against  each  white  lace  curtain  hung  a  wreath.  In 
one  corner  stood  an  upright  piano,  in  sharp  contrast 
with  the  rather  antique  hair-cloth  chairs  and  sofa. 
He  had  just  drawn  a  chair  to  the  fire,  when  Albert 
came  in  and  gave  a  low  whistle  at  the  sight  of  the 
decorations.  "  That's  one  of  the  perquisites  of  a 
country  school-ma'am,"  he  observed,  "  and  I'll  bet  the 
boys  that  gathered  all  this  green  for  Alice  enjoyed 


BY   THE   FIRESIDE  83 

getting  it.  I  used  to  when  I  was  a  boy.  Well,  old 
fellow,"  he  added,  addressing  Frank,  tf  here  we  are, 
and  you  must  make  yourself  at  home." 

Then  Alice  came  in  and  announced  supper,  and 
after  Aunt  Susan  had  been  introduced,  they  all  sat 
down.  It  was  an  old-fashioned  meal,  for  while  the 
brother  helped  to  the  ham  and  eggs  and  fried  potatoes, 
Aunt  Susan  served  the  quince  preserves  and  passed 
the  hot  biscuit,  and  Alice  poured  the  tea.  The  table 
too  had  a  Christmas  touch,  for  around  the  mat  where 
the  lamp  stood  was  a  green  wreath  brightened  with 
clusters  of  red  berries.  It  was  all  a  charming  pict 
ure,  and  not  the  least  of  it  was  the  fair  girl  who  so 
graciously  played  the  hostess.  When  the  meal  was 
over  she  said: 

"  Now  you  two  gentlemen  must  go  into  the  parlor 
and  smoke,  and  I'll  join  you  later.  I  command  you 
to  smoke,"  she  added  imperiously,  "for  I  want  the 
house  to  smell  as  if  there  was  a  man  around." 

When  she  came  in  later,  wearing  her  new  house- 
dress,  she  drew  her  chair  close  to  her  brother's  and 
resting  her  elbows  on  his  knee  and  her  chin  in  her 
open  palms  she  looked  up  and  said  with  a  witching 
smile : 

"  Now,  Bertie,  I've  fed  you  nicely,  haven't  I  ? 
and  I've  done  all  I  could  for  your  comfort,  so  now 


84  UNCLE   TERRY 

please  tell  me  what  is  in  that  long  flat  box  you 
brought." 

It  was  charmingly  done,  but  the  big  brother  was 
proof  against  her  wiles.  "  You  are  a  bewitching 
coaxer,  sis,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  am  hard-hearted. 
I'll  make  a  trade  with  you,  though.  First  tell  us  all 
about  your  school-teaching  and  sing  us  all  the  songs 
I  ask  for,  and  then  I'll  open  the  box." 

"  You  are  very  modest  in  your  wants,"  she  replied 
archly,  "  but  like  all  men  you  must  be  humored  to 
keep  you  good-natured,  I  presume." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  us  about  your  school,  Miss 
Page,"  put  in  Frank ;  "  you  are  not  a  bit  like  the 
schoolma'am  of  my  boyhood,  and  I  would  like  to 
know  how  you  manage  children." 

"  Well,  it  was  a  little  hard  at  first,"  she  answered, 
"  for  boys  and  girls  of  ten  and  twelve  have  surprisingly 
keen  intuitions,  and  it  seemed  to  me  they  made  a 
study  of  my  face  from  the  first  and  concluded  I  was 
soft-hearted.  I  had  one  little  boy  that  was  a  born 
mischief-maker,  but  he  had  such  winsome  ways  I  had 
to  love  him  in  spite  of  it.  But  he  had  to  be  punished 
some  way,  and  so  one  day  I  kept  him  after  school  and 
then  told  him  I  must  whip  him  hard,  but  not  at  that 
time.  I  explained  to  him  what  I  was  going  to  punish 
him  for,  c  but,'  I  said, '  I  shall  not  do  it  to-night.  I  may 


BY  THE   FIRESIDE  85 

do  it  to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  but  I  will  not  tell 
you  when  the  whipping  is  to  come  until  I  am  ready 
to  do  it.'  My  little  plan  was  a  success,  for  the  next 
night  he  waited  till  all  the  rest  had  gone,  and  then 
came  to  me  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  begged  me  to 
whip  him  then.  I  didn't,  though,  and  told  him  I 
wouldn't  until  he  disobeyed  again.  He  has  been  the 
most  obedient  boy  in  the  school  ever  since.  There  is 
one  little  girl  who  has  won  my  heart,  though,  in  the 
oddest  way  you  can  imagine.  The  day  I  received 
your  letter,  Bert,  I  was  so  happy  that  the  school  ran 
riot,  and  I  never  knew  it.  They  must  have  seen  it  in 
my  face,  I  think.  Well,  when  school  was  out,  this 
girl,  a  shy  little  body  of  ten,  sidled  up  to  my  desk  and 
said,  '  Pleath  may  I  kith  you,  teacher,  'fore  I  go 
home  ?  '  It  was  such  an  odd  and  pretty  bit  of  feel 
ing,  it  nearly  brought  tears  to  my  eyes." 

"  I  should  like  to  give  that  little  girl  a  box  of  candy, 
Miss  Page,"  observed  Frank,  "  and  then  ask  her  for  a 
kiss  myself." 

For  an  hour  Alice  kept  both  the  young  men  inter 
ested  in  her  anecdotes  of  school-teaching,  and  then 
her  brother  said: 

"  Come,  sis,  you  must  sing  some,  or  no  box  to-night !  " 

"  Well,"  she  replied,  smiling,  "  what  shall  it  be  ?  a 
few  gems  from  Moody  and  Sankey,  or  from  c  Laurel 


86  UNCLE   TEKRY 

Leaves  '  ?  "  And  then  turning  to  Frank  she  added : 
"  My  brother  just  dotes  on  church  music !  " 

"  Alice,"  said  her  brother  with  mock  sternness,  "  if 
you  fib  like  that  you  know  the  penalty !  " 

"  Do  you  play  or  sing,  Mr.  Nason  ?  "  she  inquired, 
not  heeding  her  brother. 

"I  do  not  know  one  note  from  another,"  he  an 
swered. 

"  Well,  that  is  fortunate  for  me,"  she  said ;  "  I  only 
sing  a  few  old-fashioned  ballads,  and  help  out  at 
church." 

Then  without  further  apology  she  went  to  the 
piano.  "  Come,  Bertie,"  she  said,  "  you  must  help 
me,  and  we  will  go  through  the  College  Songs."  And 
go  through  them  they  did,  beginning  with  "  Clemen 
tine  "  and  ending  with  "  The  Quilting  Party." 

"  Now,  sis,"  said  her  brother,  "  I  want  '  Old  Folks  at 
Home,'  '  Annie  Laurie,'  '  Rock-a-bye,'  and  '  Ben  Bolt,' 
and  then  I'll  open  the  box." 

It  was  a  simple,  old-fashioned  home  parlor  enter 
tainment,  and  no  doubt  most  musical  artists  would 
have  sneered  at  the  programme,  but  Alice  had  a  won 
derfully  sweet  and  sympathetic  soprano  voice,  and  as 
Frank  sat  watching  the  fitful  flames  play  hide-and- 
seek  in  the  open  fire,  and  listened  to  those  time-worn 
ballads,  it  seemed  to  him  he  had  never  heard  singing 


BY   THE   FIRESIDE  87 

quite  so  sweet.  Much  depends  upon  the  time  and 
place,  and  perhaps  the  romance  of  the  open  fire 
sparkling  beneath  the  bank  of  evergreen,  and  making 
the  roses  come  into  the  fair  singer's  cheeks,  and 
warming  the  golden  sheen  of  her  hair,  had  much  to 
do  with  it.  When  she  came  to  "  Ben  Bolt,"  that  old 
ditty  that  has  all  the  pathos  of  our  lost  youth  in  it, 
there  was  a  tiny  quiver  in  her  voice ;  and  when  she 
finished,  had  he  been  near  he  would  have  seen  the 
glint  of  two  unshed  tears  in  her  eyes,  for  the  song 
carried  her  thoughts  to  where  her  mother  was  at  rest. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  heard  that  song, 
and  he  never  afterwards  forgot  it. 

"  Now,  Bertie,"  said  Alice  coaxingly,  after  she  had 
finished  singing,  "  haven't  I  earned  the  box  ?  " 

It  was  an  appeal  that  few  men  could  resist,  and  cer 
tainly  not  Albert  Page,  and,  true  to  his  promise,  he 
gave  her  the  mysterious  box.  With  excited  fingers 
she  untied  the  cords,  tore  off  the  wrapper,  and  as  she 
lifted  the  cover  she  saw  —  a  beautiful  seal-skin  sacque  ! 

We  will  leave  to  the  reader's  imagination  any  and 
all  the  expressions  that  followed,  for  no  pen  can  give 
them  with  all  their  girlish  fervor,  and  when  the  ex 
citing  incident  was  over,  it  was  time  for  retiring. 

That  evening,  with  its  simple  home  enjoyments, 
sincere  and  wholesome,  its  bright  open  fire,  the  un- 


88  UNCLE   TEERY 

affected  cordiality  of  brother  and  sister,  and  beyond 
all,  the  feeling  that  he  was  a  welcome  guest,  made 
those  few  hours  ones  long  to  be  remembered  by  Frank. 
To  begin  with,  the  cheerful  fire  was  a  novelty  to  him, 
and  perhaps  that  added  a  touch  of  romance.  Then 
Alice  herself  was  a  surprise.  He  had  been  captivated 
by  her  picture,  but  had  half  expected  to  find  her  a 
timid  country  girl,  too  shy  to  do  aught  but  answer 
"  yes  "  and  "  no,"  and  look  pleasant.  Then  her  voice 
was  also  a  surprise,  and  when  he  reached  the  seclusion 
of  his  room  it  haunted  him.  And  more  than  that,  so 
intently  had  its  bird-like  sweetness  charmed  him  that 
it  usurped  all  his  thoughts.  He  had  thanked  her  for 
the  entertainment,  of  course,  but  now  that  he  was 
alone,  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  formal  thanks  had 
been  too  feeble  an  expression.  "  I  don't  wonder  Bert 
adores  her,"  he  thought;  "she  is  the  most  winsome, 
unaffected,  and  sweet  little  lady  I  ever  met.  If  I 
were  to  remain  in  this  house  a  week  I  should  be  madly 
in  love  with  her  myself." 

He  was  a  good  deal  so,  as  it  was. 


CHAPTER    XII 

A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMA'AM 

"  I  HAVE  directed  our  liveryman  to  send  over  his 
best  nag  and  a  cutter  this  morning,"  said  Albert  at 
breakfast  the  next  day  to  his  friend,  "  and  you  and 
Alice  can  take  a  sleigh-ride  and  see  Sandgate  snow- 
clad.  I  have  some  business  matters  to  attend  to." 

Later,  when  he  was  alone  with  Alice,  he  added  with 
a  smile  :  "  You  need  not  feel  obliged  to  wear  your 
new  sacque,  sis  ;  it's  not  very  cold." 

"  Oh,  you  tease  !  "  she  replied,  but  the  light  in  her 
eyes  betrayed  her  feelings. 

It  was  a  delightful  day  for  a  sleigh-ride,  for  every 
bush  and  tree  was  covered  with  a  white  fleece  of 
snow,  and  the  morning  sun  added  a  tiny  sparkle  to 
every  crystal.  A  thicket  of  spruce  was  changed  to  a 
grove  of  towering  white  cones  and  an  alder  swamp 
to  a  fantastic  fairyland.  It  was  all  new  to  Frank,  and 
as  he  drove  away  with  that  bright  and  vivacious  girl 
for  a  companion  it  is  needless  to  say  he  enjoyed  it  to 
the  utmost. 


90  UNCLE   TERKY 

"  I  had  no  idea  your  town  was  so  hemmed  in  by 
mountains,"  he  said  after  they  started  and  he  had  a 
chance  to  look  around ;  "  why,  you  are  completely 
shut  in,  and  such  grand  ones,  too !  They  are  more 
beautiful  than  the  White  Mountains  and  more  grace 
ful  in  shape." 

"  They  are  all  of  that,"  answered  Alice,  "  and  yet 
at  times  they  make  me  feel  as  if  I  was  shut  in,  away 
from  all  the  world.  We  who  see  them  every  day  for 
get  their  beauty  and  only  feel  their  desolation,  for  a 
great  tree-clad  mountain  is  desolate  in  winter,  I  think. 
At  least  it  is  apt  to  reflect  one's  mood.  I  suppose 
you  have  travelled  a  great  deal,  Mr.  Nason  ?  " 

"  Not  nearly  as  much  as  I  ought  to,"  he  answered, 
"  for  the  reason  that  I  can't  find  any  one  I  like  to  go 
with  me.  My  mother  and  sisters  go  away  to  some 
watering-place  every  summer  and  stay  there,  and 
father  sticks  to  business.  I  either  dawdle  around 
where  the  folks  are  summers,  or  stay  in  town  and 
hate  myself,  if  I  can't  find  some  one  to  go  off  on  my 
yacht  with  me.  The  fact  is,  Miss  Page,"  he  added 
mournfully,  "  I  have  hard  work  to  kill  time.  I  can 
get  a  little  party  to  run  to  Newport  or  Bar  Harbor  in 
the  summer,  and  that  is  all.  I  should  like  to  go  to 
Florida  or  the  West  Indies  in  the  winter,  or  to  Labra 
dor  or  Greenland  summers,  but  I  can't  find  company." 


A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMA'AM  91 

Alice  was  silent  for  a  moment,  for  the  picture  of  a 
young  man  complaining  because  he  had  nothing  to 
do  but  spend  his  time  and  money  was  new  to  her. 

"You  are  to  be  pitied,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a 
tinge  of  sarcasm,  "  but  still,  there  are  just  a  few  who 
would  envy  you." 

He  made  no  reply,  for  he  did  not  quite  understand 
whether  she  meant  to  be  sarcastic  or  not.  They  rode 
along  in  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  Alice  pointed  to 
a  small  square  brown  building  just  ahead,  almost  hid 
in  bushes,  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  see  that  magnificent  structure  we  are 
coming  to,  and  do  you  notice  its  grand  columns  and 
lofty  dome  ?  If  you  had  been  a  country  boy  you 
would  recollect  seeing  a  picture  of  it  in  the  spelling- 
book.  Take  a  good  look  at  it,  for  that  is  a  temple  of 
knowledge,  and  it  is  there  I  teach  school ! " 

Frank  was  silent,  for  this  time  the  sarcastic  tone  in 
her  voice  was  more  pronounced.  When  they  reached 
it  he  stopped  and  said  quietly,  "  Please  hold  the  reins. 
I  want  to  look  into  the  room  where  you  spend  your 
days." 

He  took  a  good  long  look,  and  when  he  returned  he 
said,  "  So  that  is  what  you  call  a  temple,  is  it  ?  And 
it  was  in  there  the  little  girl  wanted  to  kiss  you 
because  you  looked  happy  ? "  And  then  as  they 


92  UNCLE   TERRY 

drove  on  he  added,  "  Do  you  know,  I've  thought  of 
that  pretty  little  touch  of  feeling  a  dozen  times  since 
you  told  about  it,  and  when  I  go  home  I  shall  send  a 
box  of  candy  to  you  and  ask  you  to  do  me  the  favor 
of  giving  it  to  that  little  girl." 

It  was  not  what  she  expected  he  would  say,  and  it 
rather  pleased  her. 

Conversation  is  but  an  exchange  of  moods,  and  in 
spite  of  their  inspiring  surroundings,  the  moods  of 
those  two  young  people  did  not  seem  to  appeal  to 
each  other.  To  Alice,  whose  constant  life  of  self- 
denial  had  made  her  feel  that  the  world  was  cold  and 
selfish,  his  complaints  seemed  little  short  of  sacrilege  ; 
and  he  felt  he  had  made  a  mess  of  it  somehow  in  his 
really  honest  desire  to  be  sincere.  But  two  people  so 
placed  must  talk,  whether  they  feel  like  it  or  not,  and 
so  these  two  tried  hard  to  be  sociable.  He  wisely 
allowed  her  to  do  the  most  talking,  and  was  really 
interested  in  her  humorous  descriptions  of  school- 
teaching.  When  they  were  nearly  home  he  said  : 

"  You  are  not  a  bit  like  what  I  imagined  a  school- 
ma'am  was  like." 

"  Did  you  think  I  wore  blue  glasses  and  petted  a 
black  cat  ?  "  she  asked  laughingly. 

"  The  glasses  might  be  a  protection  to  susceptible 


A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMA'AM  93 

young  men,"  he  answered,  "  and  for  that  reason  I 
would  advise  you  to  wear  them." 

"  Shall  I  get  some  to-morrow  to  wear  while  you  are 
here  ?  "  she  queried  with  a  smile.  "  I  will  if  you  feel 
in  danger." 

"  Would  you  do  it  if  I  admitted  I  was  ?  "  he  replied, 
resolving  to  stand  his  ground,  and  looking  squarely 
at  her. 

But  that  elusive  young  lady  was  not  to  be  cornered. 

"  You  remind  me  of  a  story  Bert  told  once,"  she  said, 
"  about  an  Irishman  who  was  called  upon  to  plead 
guilty  or  not  guilty  to  the  charge  of  drunkenness. 
When  asked  afterwards  how  he  pleaded  he  said : 
'  Bedad,  I  give  the  judge  an  equivocal  answer.'  4  And 
what  was  that  ? '  said  his  friend.  '  Begorra,  whin  the 
judge  axed  me  was  I  guilty  or  not  guilty,  I  answered, 
"  Was  yer  grandfather  a  monkey  ?  "  And  then  he 
gave  me  sixty  days.' ' 

"  Well,"  replied  Frank,  "  that  is  a  good  story,  but 
it  doesn't  answer  my  question." 

That  afternoon  when  Alice  was  alone  with  her 
brother,  he  said :  "  Well,  sis,  how  do  you  like  my 
friend?" 

"  Oh,  he  means  to  be  nice,"  she  replied,  "  but  he  is 
a  little  thoughtless,  and  it  would  do  him  good  to  have 
to  work  for  his  living  a  year  or  two." 


94  UNCLE  TERRY 

Albert  looked  at  his  sister,  while  an  amused  smile 
spread  over  his  face,  and  then  said : 

"  If  you  weren't  so  abominably  pretty  you  wouldn't 
be  so  fussy.  Most  young  ladies  would  consider  the 
good-looking  and  only  son  of  a  millionaire  absolutely 
perfect  at  sight." 

"  But  I  don't,"  she  replied,  "  and  if  you  weren't  the 
best  brother  in  the  world  I'd  box  your  ears  !  '  Abom 
inably  pretty ! '  The  idea ! " 

The  two  days  intervening  before  Sunday  passed  all 
too  quickly  for  the  three  young  people.  One  day 
they  drove  to  a  distant  country  town  and  had  dinner, 
and  that  evening  Alice,  true  to  her  sex,  invited  Frank 
to  go  with  her  to  call  upon  her  dearest  girl  friend. 
Just  why  she  did  this  we  will  leave  to  any  young  lady 
to  answer,  if  she  will.  The  next  day  Albert  invited 
a  little  party,  and  that  evening  they  all  met  at  the  old 
mill  pond  and  had  a  skating  frolic.  Secluded  as  it 
was,  between  wooded  banks,  it  was  just  the  place  for 
that  kind  of  fun,  and  the  young  men  added  romance 
to  the  scene  by  lighting  a  bonfire !  When  Sunday 
morning  came  they  of  course  attended  church,  and 
Frank,  as  promised,  found  himself  slyly  stared  at  by 
all  the  people  of  Sandgate.  He  did  not  pay  much 
attention  to  the  sermon,  but  a  good  deal  to  a  certain 
sweet  soprano  voice  in  the  choir,  and  when  after  ser- 


A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMA'AM  95 

vice  Alice  joined  them,  he  boldly  walked  right  away 
with  her  and  left  Albert  chatting  with  a  neighbor. 
It  is  certain  that  this  proceeding  did  not  displease 
her,  for  no  wise  young  lady  is  averse  to  the  assumed 
protectorship  of  a  good-looking  and  well-dressed 
young  man,  especially  when  other  girls  are  looking  on. 

On  the  way  home  she,  of  course,  asked  the  usual 
question  as  to  how  he  liked  the  sermon. 

"  I  don't  think  I  heard  ten  words  of  it,"  he  replied ; 
"I  was  kept  busy  counting  how  many  I  caught 
looking  at  me,  and  whenever  the  choir  sang  I  forgot 
to  count.  Why  was  it  they  stared  at  me  so  much  ? 
Is  a  stranger  here  a  walking  curiosity  ?  " 

"  In  a  way,  yes,"  answered  Alice ;  "  they  don't 
mean  to  be  rude,  but  a  new  face  at  church  is  a  curio. 
I'll  wager  that  nine  out  of  ten  who  were  there  this 
morning  are  at  this  moment  discussing  your  looks 
and  wondering  who  and  what  you  are." 

But  all  visits  come  to  an  end,  and  Frank,  already 
more  than  half  in  love  with  the  girl  who  had  treated 
him  in  a  rather  cool  though  perfectly  courteous  way, 
realized  that  he  would  soon  be  not  only  out  of  sight, 
but  out  of  mind,  so  far  as  Alice  was  concerned.  In 
a  way  he  had  been  spoiled  by  being  sought  after  by 
managing  mammas  and  over-anxious  daughters,  and 
was  unprepared  for  the  slightly  indifferent  reception 


96  UNCLE   TERRY 

he  had  met  with  from  Alice.  He  had  been  attracted 
by  her  face  the  first  time  he  saw  her  picture,  and  five 
days'  association  had  not  lessened  the  attraction. 

A  realization  of  her  cool  indifference  tinged  his 
feelings  that  evening  just  at  dusk,  where  he  had  been 
left  alone  beside  the  freshly  started  parlor  fire,  and 
when  the  object  of  his  thought  happened  in,  he  sat 
staring  moodily  at  the  flames.  She  drew  a  chair 
opposite,  and  seating  herself,  said  pleasantly: 

"Why  so  pensive,  Mr.  Nason?  Has  going  to 
church  made  you  feel  repentant  ?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  the  need  of  repentance  except  in  one 
way,"  he  answered,  "  and  that  you  would  not  be  inter 
ested  in.  If  I  am  looking  pensive,"  he  continued, 
turning  towards  her,  "  it's  because  I'm  going  away 
to-morrow." 

It  was  a  step  towards  dangerous  ground,  and  she 
realized  it,  but  a  little  spice  of  daring  coquetry  im 
pelled  her  to  say : 

"  Tell  me  what  you  feel  to  repent  of ;  I  may  be 
able  to  offer  you  some  good  advice." 

He  had  turned  toward  the  fire  again,  and  sat  shad 
ing  his  face  with  one  hand,  and  slowly  passing  his 
fingers  across  his  forehead.  For  a  moment  he  waited, 
and  then  answered : 

"  To  be  candid,  Miss  Page,  I'm  growing  ashamed 


97 

of  the  useless  life  I  lead,  and  it's  that  I  feel  to  repent 
of.  A  few  things  your  brother  said  to  me  three 
months  ago  were  the  beginning,  and  a  remark  you 
made  the  day  we  first  went  sleighing  has  served  to 
increase  that  feeling.  Ever  since  I  left  college  I  have 
led  an  aimless  life,  bored  to  death  by  ennui,  and  con 
scious  that  no  one  was  made  any  happier  by  my 
existence.  What  Bert  said  to  me,  and  your  remark, 
have  only  served  to  make  me  realize  it  more  fully." 

They  were  both  on  risky  ground  now,  and  no  one 
knew  it  better  than  Alice,  but  she  did  not  lose  her 
head. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Nason,"  she  said  pleasantly, 
"  if  any  words  of  mine  hurt  you  even  a  little.  I  have 
forgotten  what  they  were,  and  wish  you  would.  The 
visit  which  you  and  Bert  are  making  me  is  a  most  de 
lightful  break  in  the  monotony  of  my  life,  and  I  shall 
be  very  glad  to  see  you  again."  And  then  rising  she 
added,  "  If  I  hurt  you,  please  say  you  forgive  me,  for 
I  must  go  out  and  see  to  getting  tea." 

It  was  an  adroit  escape  from  a  predicament,  and  she 
felt  relieved.  It  must  also  be  stated  that  her  visitor 
had  taken  a  long  step  upward  in  her  estimation. 

The  last  evening  was  passed  much  like  the  first, 
except  that  now  the  elusive  Alice  seemed  to  be  trans 
formed  into  a  far  more  gracious  hostess,  and  all  her 


98  UNCLE    TERRY 

smiles  and  interest  seemed  to  be  lavished  upon  Frank 
instead  of  her  brother.  It  was  as  if  this  occult  little 
lady  had  come  to  feel  a  new  and  surprising  curiosity 
in  all  that  concerned  the  life  and  amusements  of  her 
visitor.  With  true  feminine  skill  she  plied  him  with  all 
manner  of  questions,  and  affected  the  deepest  interest 
in  all  he  had  to  say.  What  were  his  sisters'  amuse 
ments  ?  Did  they  entertain  much,  play  tennis,  golf,  or 
ride  ?  Where  did  they  usually  go  summers,  and  did 
he  generally  go  with  them  ?  His  own  comings  and 
goings,  and  where  he  had  been  and  what  he  saw  there, 
were  also  made  a  part  of  the  grist  he  was  encouraged 
to  grind.  She  even  professed  a  keen  interest  in  his 
yacht,  and  listened  patiently  to  a  most  elaborate  de 
scription  of  that  craft,  although  as  a  row-boat  was  the 
largest  vessel  she  had  ever  set  foot  on,  it  is  likely  she 
did  not  gain  a  very  clear  idea  of  the  "  Gypsy." 

"Your  yacht  has  a  very  suggestive  name,"  she 
said ;  "it  makes  one  think  of  green  woods  and  camp- 
fires.  I  should  dearly  love  to  take  a  sail  in  her. 
I  have  read  so  much  about  yachts  and  yachting 
that  the  idea  of  sailing  along  the  shores  in  one's 
own  floating  house,  as  it  were,  has  a  fascination  for 
me." 

This  expression  of  taste  was  so  much  in  line  with 
Frank's,  and  the  idea  of  having  this  charming  girl 


A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMA'AM  99 

for  a  yachting  companion  so  tempting,  that  his  face 
glowed. 

"Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  he 
responded,  "than  to  have  you  for  a  guest  on  my 
boat,  Miss  Page.  I  think  it  could  be  managed  if  I 
could  only  coax  my  mother  and  sisters  to  go,  and  you 
and  your  brother  would  join  us.  We  would  visit 
the  Maine  coast  resorts  and  have  no  end  of  a  good 
time." 

"  It's  a  delightful  outing  you  suggest,"  she  answered, 
"  and  I  thank  you  very  much ;  but  I  wouldn't  think 
of  coming  if  your  family  had  to  be  coaxed  to  go,  and 
then,  it's  not  likely  that  Bert  could  find  the  time." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,"  he  said,  looking 
serious,  "  only  mother  and  the  girls  are  afraid  of  the 
water,  that  is  all." 

When  conversation  lagged  Frank  begged  that  she 
would  sing  for  him,  and  suggested  selections  from 
Moody  and  Sankey;  and  despite  her  brother's  sar 
castic  remark  that  it  wasn't  a  revival  meeting  they 
were  holding,  she  not  only  played  and  sang  all  those 
time-worn  melodies,  but  a  lot  of  others  from  older 
collections.  When  retiring-time  came,  Frank  asked 
that  she  conclude  with  "  Ben  Bolt." 

"  I  shall  not  need  to  recall  that  song  to  remind  me 
of  you,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  as  he  spread  it  on  the 


100  UNCLE   TEKKY 

music  rack  in  front  of  her,  "  but  I  shall  always  feel 
its  mood  when  I  think  of  you." 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you  will  think  of  me  as 
sleeping  '  in  a  corner  obscure  and  alone  '  in  some 
churchyard  ?  "  she  responded  archly. 

"  By  no  means,"  he  said,  "  only  I  may  perhaps  have 
a  little  of  the  same  mood  at  times  that  Ben  Bolt  had 
when  he  heard  of  the  fate  of  his  sweet  Alice." 

It  was  a  pretty  speech  and  Frank  imagined  she 
threw  a  little  more  than  usual  pathos  into  the  song 
after  it;  but  then,  no  doubt  his  imagination  was 
biassed  by  his  feelings. 

When  they  stood  on  the  platform  the  next  morning 
awaiting  the  train,  he  said  quietly : 

"  May  I  send  you  a  few  books  and  some  new  songs 
when  I  get  home,  Miss  Page  ?  I  want  to  show  you 
how  much  I  have  enjoyed  this  visit." 

"  It  is  very  nice  of  you  to  say  so,"  she  replied, 
"  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  remembered,  and  hope  you 
will  visit  us  again." 

When  the  train  came  in  he  rather  hurriedly  offered 
his  hand  and  with  a  "  Permit  me  to  thank  you  again," 
as  he  raised  his  hat,  turned  away  to  gather  up  the 
satchels  and  so  as  not  to  be  witness  to  her  leave-tak 
ing  from  her  brother. 

It  was  a  tactful  act  that  was  not  lost  upon  her. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

SOUTHPOKT   ISLAND 

IN  summer  Southport  Island,  as  yet  untainted  by 
the  tide  of  outing  travel,  was  a  spot  to  inspire  dreams, 
poetry,  and  canvases  covered  with  ocean  lore.  Its 
many  coves  and  inlets  where  the  tides  ebbed  and 
flowed  among  the  weed-covered  rocks  ;  its  bold  cliffs, 
sea  washed,  and  above  which  the  white  gulls  and  fish- 
hawks  circled ;  the  deep  thickets  of  spruce  through 
which  the  ocean  winds  murmured,  and  where  great 
beds  of  ferns  and  clusters  of  red  bunch-berries  grew, 
were  one  and  all  left  undisturbed,  week  in,  week 
out. 

At  the  Cape,  where  Uncle  Terry,  Aunt  Lissy,  and 
Telly  lived  their  simple  home  life,  and  Bascom,  the 
storekeeper  and  postmaster,  talked  unceasingly  when 
he  could  find  a  listener,  and  Deacon  Oaks  wondered 
why  "  the  grace  o'  God  hadn't  freed  the  land  from 
stuns,"  no  one  ever  came  to  disturb  its  quietude. 
Every  morning  Uncle  Terry,  often  accompanied  by 
Telly  in  a  calico  dress  and  sunbonnet,  rowed  out  to 


102  UNCLE   TERRY 

pull  his  lobster  traps,  and  after  dinner  harnessed  and 
drove  to  the  head  of  the  island  to  meet  the  mail  boat, 
then  at  eventide,  after  lighting  his  pipe  and  the 
lighthouse  lamp  at  about  the  same  time,  generally 
strolled  over  to  Bascomb's  to  have  a  chat,  while  Telly 
made  a  call  on  the  "  Widder  Leach,"  a  misanthropic 
but  pious  protegee  of  hers,  and  Aunt  Lissy  read  the 
"  Boston  Journal."  Once  in  about  three  weeks,  ac 
cording  to  weather,  the  monotony  of  the  village  was 
disturbed  by  the  arrival  of  the  small  schooner  owned 
jointly  by  Uncle  Terry,  Oaks,  and  Bascom,  and  which 
plied  between  the  Cape  and  Boston.  Once  in  two 
weeks  services  were  held  as  usual  in  the  little  brown 
church,  and  as  often  the  lighthouse  tender  called  and 
left  coal  and  oil  for  Uncle  Terry.  Regularly  on 
Thursday  evenings  the  few  piously  inclined,  led  by 
Deacon  Oaks,  gathered  in  the  church  to  sing  hymns 
they  repeated  fifty-two  times  each  year,  listen  to  a 
prayer  by  Oaks,  that  seldom  varied  in  a  single  sen 
tence,  and  heard  Auntie  Leach  thank  the  Lord  for 
his  "  many  mercies,"  though  what  they  were  in  her 
case  it  would  be  hard  to  tell,  unless  being  permitted 
to  live  alone  and  work  hard  to  live  at  all  was  a  mercy. 
The  scattered  islanders  and  the  handful  whose  dwell 
ings  comprised  the  Cape  worked  hard,  lived  fru 
gally,  and  were  unconscious  that  all  around  them 


SOUTHPOKT   ISLAND  103 

was  a  rocky  shore  whose  cliffs  and  inlets  and  beaches 
were  so  many  poems  of  picturesque  and  charming 
scenery. 

This  was  Southport  in  summer,  but  in  winter  when 
the  little  harbor  at  the  Cape  was  ice-bound,  the  wind 
ing  road  to  the  head  of  the  island  buried  beneath 
drifts,  and  the  people  often  for  weeks  at  a  time  abso 
lutely  cut  off  from  communication  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  it  was  a  place  cheerless  in  its  desolation.  Like 
so  many  woodchucks  then,  the  residents  kept  within 
doors,  or  only  stirred  out  to  cut  wood,  fodder  the 
stock,  and  shovel  paths  so  that  the  children  could  go 
to  school.  The  days  were  short  and  the  evenings  long, 
and  to  get  together  and  spend  hours  in  labored  con 
versation  the  only  pastime.  It  was  one  of  those  long 
evenings,  and  when  Aunt  Lissy  and  Telly  were  at 
a  neighbor's,  and  Uncle  Terry,  left  to  himself,  was 
reading  every  line,  including  the  advertisements,  in 
the  last  "Boston  Journal,"  that  the  following  met 
his  eye : 

WANTED.  —  Information  that  will  lead  to  the  discovery  of 
an  heir  to  the  estate  of  one  Eric  Peterson,  a  land-owner  and 
shipbuilder  of  Stockholm,  Sweden,  whose  son,'  with  his  wife, 
child,  and  crew,  were  known  to  have  been  wrecked  on  the  coast 
of  Maine,  in  March,  187-.  Nothing  has  ever  been  heard  of 
said  Peterson  or  his  wife,  but  the  child  may  have  been  saved. 


104  UNCLE   TERRY 

Any  one  having  information  that  will  lead  to  the  discovery  of 
this  child  will  be  amply  rewarded  by  communicating  with 

NICHOLAS  FRYE, 
— ,  PEMBERTON  SQUARE,  BOSTON.  Attorney  at  Law. 

"  Wai,  I'll  be  everlastin'ly  gol  darned ! "  he  ex 
claimed  after  he  had  read  it  for  the  third  time.  "  If 
this  don't  beat  all  natur,  I'm  a  goat." 

It  was  fortunate  he  was  alone,  for  it  gave  him  time 
to  think  the  matter  over,  and  after  half  an  hour  of 
astonishment  he  decided  to  say  nothing  to  his  wife  or 
Telly. 

"  I'll  jis'  breathe  easy  an'  sag  up,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "same  as  though  I  was  crossin'  thin  ice,  an'  if 
nothin'  comes  on't  nobody'll  be  the  worse  for  wor- 
ryin'." 

Then  he  cut  the  slip  out  and  hid  it  in  his  black 
leather  wallet,  and  then  wisely  cut  out  the  entire  page 
and  burned  it. 

"  Wimmin  are  sich  curis  creeters  they'd  be  sure  to 
want  to  know  what  I'd  cut  out  o'  that  page,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "  an'  never  rest  till  I  told  'em." 

When  Aunt  Lissy  and  Telly  came  home  he  was  as 
composed  as  a  rock  and  sat  quietly  puffing  his  pipe, 
with  his  feet  on  top  of  a  chair  and  pointing  towards 
the  fire. 


SOTJTHPORT    ISLAND  105 

"Were  you  lonesome,  father?"  asked  Telly,  who 
usually  led  conversation  in  the  Terry  home.  "  We 
stopped  at  Bascom's,  and  you  know  he  never  stops 
talking." 

44  He's  worse'n  burdock  burs  ter  git  away  from," 
answered  Uncle  Terry,  "an'  ye  can't  be  perlite  ter 
him  unless  ye  want  t'  spend  the  rest  o'  yer  life  listen- 
in'.  His  tongue  allus  seemed  ter  be  hung  in  the 
middle  an'  wag  both  ways.  I  wasn't  lonesome,"  he 
continued,  rising  and  adding  a  few  sticks  to  the  fire, 
as  the  two  women  laid  aside  their  wraps  and  drew 
chairs  up ;  "  I've  read  the  paper  purty  well  through 
an'  had  a  spell  o'  livin'  over  by-gones,"  and  then, 
turning  to  Telly  and  smiling,  he  added :  "  I  got 
thinkin'  o'  the  day  ye  came  ashore,  an'  mother  she 
got  that  excited  she  sot  the  box  ye  was  in  on  the 
stove  an'  then  put  more  wood  in.  It's  a  wonder  she 
didn't  put  ye  in  the  stove  instead  o'  the  wood  !  " 

As  this  joke  was  not  new  to  the  listeners,  no  notice 
was  taken  of  it,  and  the  three  lapsed  into  silence. 

Outside  the  steady  boom  of  the  surf  beating  on  the 
rocks  came  with  monotonous  regularity,  and  inside 
the  clock  ticked.  For  a  long  time  Uncle  Terry  sat 
and  smoked  on  in  silence,  resuming,  perhaps,  his  by 
gones,  and  then  said :  "  By  the  way,  Telly,  what's 
become  o'  them  trinkets  o'  yourn  ye  had  on  that  day  ? 


106  UNCLE   TERRY 

It's  been  so  long  now,  'most  twenty  years,  I  'bout  for 
got  'em.  I  s'pose  ye  hain't  lost  'em,  hev  ye  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  father,"  she  answered,  a  little  surprised. 
"  I  hope  not.  They  are  all  in  the  box  in  my  bureau, 
and  no  one  ever  disturbs  them." 

"  Ye  wouldn't  mind  fetchin'  'em  now,  would  ye, 
Telly  ?  "  he  continued  after  drawing  a  long  whiff  of 
smoke  and  slowly  emitting  it  in  rings.  "  It's  been  so 
many  years,  an'  since  I  got  thinkin'  'bout  it  I'd  like 
to  take  a  look  at  'em,  jest  to  remind  me  o'  that  fortu 
nate  day  ye  came  to  us." 

The  girl  arose,  and  going  upstairs,  returned  with  a 
small  tin  box  shaped  like  a  trunk,  and  drawing  the 
table  up  in  front  of  Uncle  Terry,  set  the  box  down 
upon  it.  It  is  likely  that  its  contents  were  so  many 
links  that  bound  the  two  together,  for  as  he  opened 
it  she  perched  herself  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and 
leaning  against  his  shoulder,  passed  one  arm  caress 
ingly  around  his  neck  and  watched  him  take  out  the 
contents. 

First  came  a  soft,  fleecy  baby  blanket,  then  two 
little  garments,  once  whitest  muslin  but  now  yellow 
with  age,  and  then  another  smaller  one  of  flannel. 
Pinned  to  this  were  two  tiny  shoes  of  knitted  wool. 
In  the  bottom  of  the  box  was  a  small  wooden  shoe, 
and  though  clumsy  in  comparison,  yet  evidently 


SOTTTHPOKT  ISLAND  107 

fashioned  to  fit  a  lady's  foot.  Tucked  in  this  was  a 
little  box  tied  with  faded  ribbon,  and  in  this  were  a 
locket  and  chain,  two  rings,  and  a  scrap  of  paper. 
The  writing  on  the  paper,  once  hastily  scrawled  by  a 
despairing  mother's  hand,  had  almost  faded,  and  in 
side  the  locket  were  two  faces,  one  a  man's  with 
strongly  marked  features,  the  other  girlish  with  big 
eyes  and  hair  in  curls. 

These  were  all  the  heritage  of  this  waif  of  the 
sea  who  now,  a  fair  girl  with  eyes  and  face  like  the 
woman's  picture,  was  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  her 
foster-father,  and  they  told  a  pathetic  tale  of  life  and 
death;  of  romance  and  mystery  not  yet  unwoven, 
and  a  story  not  yet  told. 

How  many  times  that  orphan  girl  had  imagined 
what  that  tale  might  be ;  how  often  before  she  had 
examined  every  one  of  those  mute  tokens ;  how  many 
times  gazed  with  moist  eyes  at  the  faces  in  the  locket ; 
and  how,  as  the  years  bearing  her  onward  toward 
maturity  passed,  had  she  hoped  and  waited,  hoping 
ever  that  some  word,  some  whisper  from  that  far-off 
land  of  her  birth  might  reach  her !  But  none  ever 
came,  and  now  hope  was  dead. 

And  as  she  looked  at  those  mute  relics  which  told  so 
little  and  yet  so  much  of  her  history,  while  the  old 
man  who  had  been  all  that  a  kind  father  could  be  to 


108  TJNOLE   TEKRY 

her  took  them  out  one  by  one,  she  realized  more  than 
ever  before  what  a  debt  of  gratitude  she  owed  to  him. 
When  he  had  looked  them  over  and  put  them  back  in 
the  exact  order  in  which  they  had  been  packed,  he 
closed  the  box,  and  taking  the  little  hand  that  had  been 
caressing  his  face  in  his  own  wrinkled  and  bony  one, 
held  it  for  a  moment.  When  he  released  it  the  girl 
stooped,  and  pressing  her  lips  to  his  weather-browned 
cheek,  arose  and  resumed  her  seat.  Had  observant 
eyes  watched  her  then,  they  would  have  noticed  that 
hers  remained  closed  for  a  few  moments  and  that  two 
tears  glistened  there. 

"Wai,  ye  better  put  the  box  away  now,"  said 
Uncle  Terry  at  last.  "  I'll  jest  go  out  an'  take  a  look 
off  n  the  pint  and  then  it'll  be  time  to  turn  in." 


CHAPTER    XIV 

A   LEGALIZED    PICKPOCKET 

"  I'VE  got  ter  go  ter  Boston,"  said  Uncle  Terry  to 
his  wife  a  few  days  later.  "  Thar's  some  money  due  us 
that  we  ain't  sartin  we'll  git.  You  an'  Telly  can  tend 
the  lights  for  a  couple  o'  nights,  can't  ye  ?  I  won't 
be  gone  more'n  that.  Bascom's  to  take  me  up  to  the 
head,  an'  if  the  boat's  runnin'  I'll  be  all  right." 

This  plan  had  cost  Uncle  Terry  a  good  deal  of 
diplomacy.  Not  only  did  he  have  to  invent  a  reason 
able  excuse  for  going  by  exciting  the  fears  of  both 
Bascom  and  Oaks  regarding  money  really  due  them, 
but  he  had  to  allay  the  curiosity  of  his  wife  and  Telly 
as  well.  In  a  small  village  like  the  Cape  every  one's 
movements  were  well  known  to  all  and  commented  on, 
and  no  one  was  better  aware  of  it  than  Uncle  Terry. 
But  go  to  Boston  he  must,  and  to  do  so  right  in  the 
dead  of  winter,  when  to  take  such  a  trip  was  an 
unheard-of  thing,  and  not  excite  a  small  tempest  of 
curious  gossip,  taxed  his  Yankee  wit. 

At  Bath  he  had  a  few  hours'  wait,  and  went  to  the 


110  UNCLE   TERRY 

bank  and  drew  a  sizable  sum  of  money  from  his  small 
savings. 

"  Lawyers  are  sech  sharps,  consarn  'em  ! "  he  said 
to  himself,  "  I'd  better  go  loaded.  Most  likely  I'll 
come  back  skinned !  I  never  did  tackle  a  lawyer 
'thout  losin'  my  shirt." 

When,  after  an  all-night  ride,  during  which  he  sat 
in  the  smoking-car  with  his  pipe  and  thoughts  for 
company,  he  arrived  in  Boston,  he  felt,  as  he  would 
phrase  it,  like  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret.  He  had  tried 
to  fortify  himself  against  the  expected  meeting  with 
this  Frye,  who  he  felt  sure  would,  like  all  his  pro 
fession,  make  him  pay  dearly  for  any  service.  When 
he  entered  the  rather  untidy  office  of  that  legal  light 
he  was  not  surprised  to  find  that  its  occupant  much 
resembled  a  vulture. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  Frye, 
after  his  visitor  had  introduced  himself. 

"  Wai,"  answered  Uncle  Terry,  taking  a  seat  and 
laying  his  hat  on  the  floor  beside  him,  "  I've  come  on 
rather  a  curis  errand ; "  and  taking  out  the  slip  he 
had  a  few  days  before  placed  in  his  wallet,  he  handed 
it  to  Frye  with  the  remark :  "  That's  my  errand." 

Frye's  face  brightened. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Terry,"  he  said,  be 
ginning  to  rub  his  hands  together.  "  If  you  have  any 


A  LEGALIZED   PICKPOCKET  111 

facts  in  your  possession  that  will  aid  us  in  the  search 
for  an  heir  to  this  estate  we  shall  be  glad  to  pay  you 
for  them,  provided  they  are  facts.  Now,  sir,  what  is 
your  story  ?  " 

Uncle  Terry  looked  at  the  lawyer  a  moment  before 
answering. 

"  I  didn't  come  here  to  tell  all  I  knew  the  fust 
go-off,"  he  said.  "  I  know  all  'bout  this  shipwreck, 
an'  a  good  deal  more  that'll  consarn  ye,  but  fust  I 
want  to  know  who  is  lookin'  for  the  information,  an' 
what's  likely  to  cum  on't." 

It  was  Frye's  turn  to  stare  now. 

"  This  man  won't  be  any  easy  witness,"  he  thought ; 
and  then  he  said :  "  That  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  dis 
close  until  I  know  what  facts  you  can  establish,  but 
rest  assured  that  any  information  you  may  have,  if  it 
be  proved  of  real  value,  will  entitle  you  to  an  ample 
reward." 

"  I  reckon  ye  don't  quite  ketch  on  ter  my  drift," 
replied  Uncle  Terry.  "  I  didn't  cum  here  lookin'  fer 
pay,  but  to  see  that  justice  was  sarved  and  them  as 
had  rights  got  thar  dues." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Frye,  in  a  suave  voice,  "  we  too 
are  looking  to  see  the  ends  of  justice  served,  but  you 
must  understand  that  in  a  matter  of  this  importance 
we  must  make  no  mistakes.  An  estate  awaits  a 


112  UNCLE   TERKY 

claimant,  but  that  claimant  must  establish  his  or  her 
identity  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  in  order,  as 
you  must  see,  that  justice  may  be  done." 

"  Wai,"  replied  Uncle  Terry,  stroking  his  chin  with 
his  thumb  and  finger  while  he  deliberated,  "  I  s'pose 
I  may  as  well  tell  ye  fust  as  last.  I  cum  here  for 
that  purpose,  an'  all  I  want  to  fix  is,  if  thar's  nothin' 
in  it  ye'd  keep  it  a  secret  and  not  raise  any 
false  hopes  in  the  minds  o'  them  as  is  near  and  dear 
to  me." 

"  It's  a  lawyer's  professional  duty  never  to  disclose 
any  business  confidence  that  a  client  may  confide 
to  him,"  answered  Frye  with  dignity,  "and  in  this 
matter  I  infer  you  wish  to  become  my  client.  Am  I 
right,  Mr.  Terry?" 

"  I  didn't  cum  here  exactly  purposin'  to  hire  ye," 
answered  Uncle  Terry ;  "  I  cum  to  find  what's  in  the 
wind,  an',  if  'twas  likely  to  'mount  to  anything,  to  tell 
all  I  knew  an'  see  that  them  as  had  rights  got  justice. 
As  I  told  ye  in  the  fust  on't,  I'm  keeper  o'  the  light 
at  the  end  o'  Southport  Island,  an'  have  been  for 
thirty  year. 

"  One  night  in  March,  just  nineteen  year  ago  comin' 
this  spring,  thar  was  a  small  bark  got  a-foul  o'  White 
Hoss  Ledge  right  off'n  the  pint  and  stayed  thar 
hard  an'  fast.  I  seen  her  soon  as  'twas  light,  but  thar 


A  LEGALIZED  PICKPOCKET  113 

was  nothin'  that  could  be  done  but  build  a  fire  an' 
stand  an'  watch  the  poor  critters  go  down.  Long 
toward  noon  I  spied  a  bundle  workin'  in,  an'  when  it 
struck  I  made  fast  to  it  with  a  boat  hook  an'  found 
a  baby  inside  an'  alive.  My  wife  an'  I  took  care  on't, 
and  have  been  doing  so  ever  since.  It  was  a  gal  baby 
and  she  growed  up  into  a  young  lady.  'Bout  ten 
years  ago  we  took  out  papers  legally  adoptin'  her,  an' 
so  she's  ourn.  From  a  paper  we  found  pinned  to  her 
clothes,  we  learned  her  name  was  Etelka  Peterson,  an' 
that  her  mother,  an'  we  supposed  her  father,  went 
down  that  day  right  in  sight  o'  us.  Thar  was  a 
locket  round  the  child's  neck,  an'  a  couple  o'  rings  in 
the  box,  an'  we  have  kept  'em  an'  the  papers  an'  all 
her  baby  clothes  ever  since.  That's  the  hull  story." 

"  How  did  this  child  live  to  get  ashore  ? "  asked 
Frye,  keenly  interested. 

"  That's  the  curis  part,"  replied  Uncle  Terry ;  "  she 
was  put  in  a  box  an'  tied  'tween  two  feather  beds  an' 
cum  ashore  dry  as  a  duck." 

Frye  stroked  his  nose  reflectively,  stooping  over  as 
he  did  and  watching  his  visitor  with  hawk-like  eyes. 

"  A  very  well-told  tale,  Mr.  Terry,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  A  very  well-told  tale  indeed !  Of  course  you  have 
retained  all  the  articles  you  say  were  found  on  the 
child?" 


114  UNCLE   TERRY 

"  Yes,  we've  kept  'em  all,  you  may  be  sure,"  replied 
Uncle  Terry. 

"  And  why  did  you  never  make  any  official  report 
of  this  wreck  and  of  the  facts  you  state  ? "  asked 
Frye. 

"  I  did  at  the  time,"  answered  Uncle  Terry,  "  but 
nothiii'  cum  on't.  I  guess  my  report  is  thar  in  Wash 
ington  now,  if  it  ain't  lost." 

"  And  do  I  understand  you  wish  to  retain  me  as 
your  counsel  in  this  matter,  and  lay  claim  to  this 
estate,  Mr.  Terry?"  continued  Frye. 

"  Wai,  I've  told  ye  the  facts,"  replied  Uncle  Terry, 
"  an'  if  the  gal's  got  money  comin'  I'd  like  to  see  her 
git  it.  What's  goin'  to  be  the  cost  o'  doin'  the  busi 
ness?" 

"  The  matter  of  expense  is  hard  to  state  in  such  a 
case  as  this,"  answered  Frye  cautiously.  "  The 
estate  is  a  large  one ;  there  may  be,  and  no  doubt 
will  be,  other  claimants  ;  litigation  may  follow,  and  so 
the  cost  is  an  uncertain  one.  I  shall  be  glad  to  act 
for  you  in  this  matter,  and  will  do  so  if  you  retain 
me." 

It  is  said  that  those  who  hesitate  are  lost,  and  at 
this  critical  moment  Uncle  Terry  hesitated. 

He  did  not  like  the  looks  of  Frye.  He  suspected 
him  to  be  what  he  was  —  a  shrewd,  smooth,  plausible 


A  LEGALIZED  PICKPOCKET  115 

villain.  Had  he  obeyed  his  first  impulse  he  would 
have  picked  up  his  hat  and  left  Frye  to  wash  his 
hands  with  invisible  soap,  and  laid  his  case  before 
some  other  lawyer,  but  he  hesitated.  Frye,  he  knew, 
had  the  matter  in  his  hands  and  might  make  the 
claim  that  his  story  was  false  and  fight  it  with  all  the 
legal  weapons  Uncle  Terry  so  much  dreaded.  In 
the  end  he  decided  to  put  the  matter  in  Frye's  hands 
and  hope  for  the  best. 

"  I  shall  want  you  to  send  me  a  detailed  story  of 
this  wreck,  sworn  to  by  yourself  and  wife,"  said 
Frye,  "  also  all  the  articles  found  on  this  child ;  and  I 
will  lay  your  affidavits  before  the  attorneys  for  this 
estate,  and  report  progress  to  you  later  on." 

When  Uncle  Terry  turned  his  face  towards  home 
his  pocket  was  lighter  by  two  hundred  dollars.  With 
most  of  us  when  we  take  an  uncertain  step,  the 
farther  we  get  from  it  the  more  sure  we  become  that 
it  was  an  unwise  one,  and  it  was  so  with  Uncle 
Terry. 

"  I  s'posed  I'd  git  skinned,"  he  muttered  to  himself 
after  he  was  well  on  his  way  home,  "  an'  I  reckon  I 
have !  That  dum  thief,  like  all  the  rest  o'  lawyers, 
knows  a  farmer  at  sight,  an'  when  he  ketches  one  he 
takes  his  hay!  He's  taken  mine  fur  sartin  an'  I 
begin  to  think  I'm  a  consarned  old  fool,  that  don't 


116  UNCLE  TERKY 

know  'miff  to  go  in  when  it  rains !  How  I'm 
goin'  to  git  the  wimmin  to  give  up  them  trinkets, 
'thout  'lowin'  I've  lost  my  senses,  is  one  too  many 
fur  me !  " 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   VALUE    OF    GOOD   EXAMPLE 

IT  has  been  well  said  that  we  grow  to  be  like  our 
nearest  neighbors,  and  the  effect  of  Albert  Page's  vig 
orous  efforts  to  attain  success  was  not  lost  upon  his 
friend  Frank. 

After  their  Christmas  visit  to  Sandgate  Albert 
had  applied  himself  diligently  to  the  care  of  Mr. 
Nason's  legal  needs.  This  brought  him  into  contact 
with  other  business  men  and  the  fact  that  John  Nason 
employed  him  easily  secured  for  him  other  clients. 
In  two  months  he  not  only  had  Mr.  Nason's  affairs  to 
look  after,  but  all  his  remaining  time  was  taken  up 
by  others'.  He  had  spent  several  evenings  at  the 
Nasons'  home,  and  found  the  family  a  much  more 
agreeable  one  than  Frank  had  led  him  to  expect. 
Both  that  young  man's  sisters  were  bright  and  agree 
able  young  ladies,  and  though  a  little  affected,  they 
treated  him  with  charming  courtesy  and  extended  to 
him  a  cordial  invitation  to  have  his  sister  make  them 
a  visit.  A  good-looking,  well-educated,  and  well- 


118  UNCLE   TERRY 

behaved  young  man,  no  matter  if  he  is  poor,  will  find 
favor  wherever  he  goes,  and  Albert  was  no  exception. 

Since  the  day  he  had  shaken  his  fist  at  the  closed 
door  of  Mr.  Frye's  law  office  he  had  met  that  hawk- 
nosed  lawyer  twice  and  received  only  a  chilling  bow. 
The  memory  of  that  contemptible  contract  he  had 
tacitly  allowed  Frye  to  consider  as  made  brought  a 
blush  to  his  face  every  time  he  thought  of  it,  but  he 
kept  his  own  counsel.  Once  or  twice  he  had  been  on 
the  point  of  telling  Frank  the  whole  story,  but  had 
refrained,  feeling  it  would  do  no  good,  and  might 
cause  trouble.  He  was  a  thorough  believer  in  the 
truism  that  if  you  give  a  calf  rope  enough,  he  will 
hang  himself,  and  a  rascal  time,  he  will  get  caught. 

In  his  intimate  relations  with  John  Nason  he  saw 
enough  to  satisfy  himself  that  Frye's  insinuation 
against  that  busy  man's  character  was  entirely  false. 
Mr.  Nason  seldom  spent  an  evening  away  from  his 
home,  and  when  he  did,  it  was  to  attend  the  theatre 
with  his  family. 

After  their  visit  to  Sandgate  Frank  and  himself 
naturally  drifted  into  more  intimate  relations,  and  a 
day  seldom  passed  that  Frank  did  not  step  into  his 
office  for  a  chat. 

"Don't  mind  me,  Bert,"  that  uneasy  man  would 
say  when  he  saw  that  Page  was  busy,  "  and  if  you 


THE   VALUE   OF   GOOD   EXAMPLE  119 

don't  want  me  to  talk  any  time,  tell  me  to  shut 
up.  I  shan't  feel  offended.  The  fact  is,  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  with  myself.  If  it  were  only  sum 
mer  I'd  go  off  on  the  '  Gypsy,'  even  if  I  had  to  go 
alone." 

One  evening  at  the  club  he  made  Albert  a  rather 
surprising  proposition.  Albert,  who  seldom  entered 
into  any  card  games,  and  only  occasionally  played 
pool  or  billiards,  was  in  the  reading-room  as  usual 
enjoying  a  cigar  and  the  evening  "Journal"  when 
Frank  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down.  They  were 
alone,  and  as  Page  laid  his  paper  aside  to  chat  with 
Frank,  whom  he  really  liked  very  much,  despite  the 
fact  that  that  young  man  bothered  him  a  good  deal, 
Frank  said : 

"  Do  you  know,  I  am  getting  absolutely  tired  and 
sick  of  doing  nothing.  Ever  since  I  left  college  I've 
been  an  idler,  and  I  can't  say  I'm  enjoying  it.  I  arise 
in  the  morning  and  wonder  how  I  can  manage  to  get 
through  the  day.  I  read  the  papers,  go  down  to  the 
store,  up  to  the  club,  down  to  your  office,  back  to 
the  club  to  lunch,  and  maybe  play  pool  for  an  hour 
or  two  with  some  poor  devil  as  lonesome  as  I  am,  or 
go  to  the  matinee,  and  in  the  evening  only  do  I  begin 
to  enjoy  myself  a  little.  I  am  beginning  to  realize 
that  a  life  of  idleness  is  a  beastly  bore,  and  I  am  sick 


120  UNCLE   TERRY 

of  it.  I  want  you  to  let  me  come  into  your  office 
and  study  law;  will  you?" 

Albert  looked  at  him  a  moment,  while  an  amused 
smile  crept  over  his  face. 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  means  ?  "  he  responded 
at  last.  "  Do  you  know  that  to  read  law  means  two 
years,  perhaps,  of  close  application  and  perseverance  ? 
In  my  case  I  had  the  spur  of  necessity  to  urge  me  on 
and  even  with  that  stimulus  it  was  a  dry,  hard  grind. 
With  you,  who  have  all  the  money  you  need  and  are 
likely  to,  it  will  be  much  worse.  I  respect  your  feel 
ing  and  I  admire  your  determination  very  much,  and, 
of  course,  do  not  wish  to  discourage  you.  You  are 
more  than  welcome  to  my  office  and  law  books,  and  I 
will  gladly  help  you  all  I  can,"  and  then  after  a 
moment's  reflection  he  added,  "  I  believe  it's  a  wise 
step,  and  I'll  be  very  glad  to  have  you  with  me.  You 
can  help  me  out  in  a  good  many  ways  also  that  will 
advance  you  even  faster  than  steady  reading." 

He  was  surprised  at  the  look  of  pleasure  that  came 
into  Frank's  face. 

"I  had  half  expected  you  would  try  to  discourage 
me,"  said  he,  "  and  it's  very  kind  of  you  to  promise 
to  help  me." 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  "  answered  Page.  "  I  owe  you 
a  good  deal  more  than  that,  my  dear  boy,  and  when 


THE   VALUE   OF   GOOD   EXAMPLE  121 

you  have  been  admitted  we  will  go  into  a  partnership 
if  you  want  to  do  it." 

"  Here's  my  hand  on  it,"  said  Frank,  rising,  "  and 
I  mean  it,  too,  and  if  you  will  have  patience  with  me 
I'll  stick  it  out  or  own  up  I'm  no  good  in  this  world." 
He  seemed  overjoyed  and  for  two  hours  they  sat  and 
talked  it  over.  "  When  may  I  begin  ?  "  he  said  finally. 
"  I  want  to  go  at  it  right  away." 

"  To-morrow  morning  at  nine  o'clock  sharp,"  re 
plied  Albert,  smiling,  "  and  I  warn  you  I  shall  keep 
you  grinding  eight  full  hours,  six  days  a  week,  and 
no  let-up  until  July  first.  But  tell  me,  when  did  this 
sensible  and  eminently  laudable  idea  enter  your 
head  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  be  exact,  it  came  to  me  in  the  parlor  of 
your  house  in  Sandgate,  just  at  dark,  the  last  even 
ing  I  was  there,  and  a  remark  your  sister  made  to  me 
was  the  cause  of  it." 

A  droll  smile  crept  over  Albert's  face  at  this  frank 
admission,  but  he  made  110  reply,  and  as  he  scanned 
his  friend's  face,  now  turned  slightly  away  from  him, 
and  recalled  that  last  evening  at  home,  and  how  Alice 
had  so  persistently  devoted  herself  to  the  entertain 
ment  of  this  young  man,  a  revelation  came  to  him. 

"  So  it's  that  heart-breaker's  blue  eyes  that  have 
begun  to  work  mischief  in  Frank's  feelings,  is  it?" 


122  UNCLE   TERRY 

he  said  to  himself,  after  he  had  left  the  club,  and  he 
almost  laughed  aloud  at  the  thought.  "  Sis  has  some 
rather  pronounced  ideas  about  idleness,  and  maybe 
she  has  read  my  young  friend  a  lesson  in  a  few 
words.  She  is  capable  of  it!" 

When  Frank,  true  to  his  promise,  came  to  the  office 
next  morning,  Albert  set  him  to  work  and  made  sure 
to  give  him  all  possible  encouragement. 

"  I  think  far  more  of  you,  Frank,"  he  said  earnestly, 
"  for  this  good  resolve,  and  when  you  get  fairly  into 
it  and  begin  to  take  an  interest  you  will  be  glad  you 
took  hold.  I  believe  every  one  in  this  world  is  happier 
and  healthier  for  having  an  occupation,  and  certainly 
you  will  be." 

It  must  be  recorded  that  Frank  showed  a  persever 
ing  spirit  as  the  weeks  went  by,  and  he  became,  as 
Page  predicted,  thoroughly  interested,  and  an  earnest 
student.  In  a  way,  too,  he  was  a  help  to  Albert,  for 
he  could  call  on  him  any  time  to  find  some  references 
or  some  decision  bearing  on  a  case  in  hand.  It  was 
soon  after  Frank's  new  departure  in  life  that  Alice 
received  a  letter  from  her  brother,  and  among  other 
things  he  wrote: 

"  What  was  it  you  said  to  Frank  the  last  evening 
of  our  visit  at  home  ?  He  has  decided  to  study  law 
in  my  office  and  admits  his  sensible  resolution  to  do 


THE   VALUE   OF    GOOD   EXAMPLE  123 

so  was  the  result  of  a  remark  you  made  then.  Know 
ing  what  a  fine  vein  of  sarcasm  you  are  blessed  with 
(as  well  as  bewitching  ways),  I  am  curious  to  know 
what  sort  of  an  arrow  you  drew  from  your  quiver  that 
evening." 

But  Albert  was  not  adroit  enough  to  obtain  a  con 
fession  from  his  keen-witted  sister,  and  thereby  be 
enabled  to  joke  her  a  little  about  it,  for  she  never 
replied  to  his  question. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

SWEET   ALICE 

"  Oh,  don't  you  remember  sweet  Alice,  Ben  Bolt? 

Sweet  Alice  whose  hair  was  so  brown, 
Who  wept  with  delight  when  you  gave  her  a  smile, 
And  trembled  with  fear  at  your  frown?  " 

Old  Song. 

EVERY  person  we  meet  in  life  makes  an  impression 
on  us,  varying  from  the  faintest  shadow  that  soon 
vanishes  to  a  vivid  one  that  lasts  as  long  as  memory. 

Alice  Page's  first  impression  of  Frank  Nason  did 
not  do  him  justice.  She  thought  him  a  big,  good- 
natured,  polite  boy,  rather  conscious  that  he  was 
likely  to  be  sought  after,  and  disposed  to  sulk  if  he 
wasn't.  His  plea  for  sympathy  on  the  score  that  his 
life  of  idleness  was  a  bore,  which  he  made  the  day 
they  went  sleighing,  only  provoked  her  derision,  and 
as  she  was  disposed  to  judge  all  men  by  the  standard 
of  her  self-reliant  brother,  he  came  near  awakening 
contempt  on  her  part.  It  was  not  until  the  last  even 
ing  of  his  visit  that  she  discovered  her  mistake  and 


Al.IC'K 


SWEET   ALICE  125 

realized  that  he  had  more  depth  of  character  than  she 
had  thought.  It  is  likely  the  keen  enjoyment  which 
he  seemed  to  feel  when  she  sang  for  him  had  weight, 
for  we  are  prone  to  like  those  who  like  us,  and  it  was 
natural  also  that  she  should  feel  a  little  gratitude  for 
what  he  had  done  for  her  brother. 

Her  life,  hidden  away  as  she  was  in  a  by-way  comer 
of  a  country  town,  and  seeing  no  one  all  the  week 
except  her  small  band  of  pupils,  gave  her  plenty  of 
time  for  thought,  and  there  was  no  young  man  in  the 
village  whose  company  she  would  tolerate  if  she  could 
help  it.  Once  a  week,  usually  on  Saturday,  she  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  her  brother,  and  that,  together 
with  the  mild  excitement  of  Sunday  church-going,  was 
all  that  broke  the  monotony  of  her  life. 

A  week  after  the  Christmas  visit  she  received  a 
package  containing  a  new  book,  three  of  the  latest 
popular  songs,  and  a  box  of  candy,  and  pinned  to  the 
candy  Frank  Nason's  card,  on  the  back  of  which  was 
written  :  "  For  the  girl  who  wanted  to  kiss  her  teacher." 

She  wrote  a  polite  note  of  thanks,  and  then,  feeling 
that  she  would  soon  be  forgotten  by  him,  and  not  car 
ing  much  whether  she  was  or  not,  settled  down  to  the 
unvarying  round  of  her  daily  life.  It  was  mid-winter, 
and  two  weeks  after  her  brother  wrote  that  Frank 
had  begun  studying  law  in  his  office,  when  she  re- 


126  UNCLE   TERRY 

ceived  a  letter  from  that  young  man  that  surprised 
her.     He  wrote : 

MY  DEAR  Miss  PAGE  :  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me  for  in 
truding  myself  upon  you,  but  I  wish  you  to  know  that  a  few 
pointed  words  spoken  by  you  while  I  was  enjoying  your  hos 
pitality  have  not  been  forgotten,  and  have  influenced  me  to 
make  an  effort  to  be  something  better  than  an  idler  in  the 
world.  Your  brother  kindly  consented  to  let  me  read  law  in 
his  office,  and  I  am  now  hard  at  it.  I  do  not  imagine  this  will 
interest  you,  but  I  felt  that  you  had  scant  respect  for  useless 
people,  and  as  you  could  rightly  so  regard  me,  I  wanted  you 
to  know  that  I  am  capable  of  rising  above  my  aimless  life. 

I  have  recalled  so  many  times  all  the  little  incidents  of  my 
visit  to  your  home,  and  lived  over  those  evenings  graced  by 
your  presence,  and  lit  by  a  cheerful  fire,  time  and  again.  Do 
not  think  me  insincere  when  I  assure  you  they  were  the  most 
delightful  ones  I  ever  passed.  If  you  find  time  to  write  a  line 
to  one  who  is  now  a  worker  in  the  hive  instead  of  a  drone,  it 
will  be  gratefully  received  by  me. 

To  a  girl  with  Alice  Page's  sympathetic  nature  and 
tender  feelings,  words  like  these  made  her  feel  she 
was  what  she  most  enjoyed  being  —  an  inspiration 
and  help  to  others.  In  this  respect  Frank  Nason  had 
read  her  better  than  she  had  read  him,  or  else  some 
fortunate  intuition  had  led  him  aright,  She  answered 
the  letter  at  once,  thanking  him  for  his  nattering 
words,  but  forbidding  him  to  use  any  more  of  them. 


SWEET  ALICE  127 

44  I  do  not  like  flattery,"  she  wrote,  "  because  no  one 
ever  can  feel  quite  sure  it  is  sincere.  I  will  answer 
all  your  letters  if  you  will  promise  not  to  tell  Bert 
we  are  corresponding.  Not  that  I  am  ashamed  of  it 
by  any  means,  but  he  is  inclined  to  tease  me  and  I 
love  him  so  dearly  I  can't  bear  to  have  him  do  so. 
The  little  girl  you  sent  the  candy  to  was  both  aston 
ished  and  grateful.  I  did  not  tell  her  who  sent  it,  for 
the  fact  would  have  been  all  over  town  in  a  week  if  I 
had,  and  I  do  not  like  to  be  gossiped  about.  I  merely 
told  her  a  good  fairy  had  sent  it,  which  was  better." 

Once  a  week  thereafter  Alice  received  a  long  letter 
from  Frank  and  as  regularly  answered  it.  It  is  need 
less  to  say  that  she  soon  began  to  anticipate  them  and 
that  they  added  much  to  her  monotonous  life. 
Frank  wisely  refrained  from  any  expression  of  love, 
though  Alice  felt  sure  he  was  likely  to  make  such 
expression  in  person  if  ever  he  had  an  opportunity 
to  do  so.  No  woman,  much  less  a  keenly  sensitive 
young  woman  like  her,  is  ever  long  in  doubt  as  to  a 
man's  feelings,  and  Alice  Page,  whose  heart  had  never 
felt  a  stronger  emotion  than  love  for  her  brother,  knew 
the  moment  she  read  her  admirer's  first  letter  that  its 
well-considered  words  were  really  inspired  by  Cupid. 
More  than  that,  she  felt  sure  that  his  commendable 
efforts  to  become  a  useful  professional  man,  instead 


128  UNCLE   TEKRY 

of  a  badly  bored  idler,  were  due  to  the  hope  that  the 
effort  would  find  favor  in  her  eyes.  In  all  these  sur 
mises  it  is  needless  to  say  her  feminine  intuition  was 
quite  correct. 

That  her  brother  also  surmised  the  truth  is  quite 
likely,  though  he  wisely  kept  these  thoughts  to  him 
self  for  good  and  sufficient  reasons. 

"  Frank  is  getting  along  nicely,"  he  wrote  Alice,  in 
the  early  spring ;  u  I  believe  he  has  the  making  of  a 
capable  lawyer  in  him.  He  grinds  away  harder  than 
I  ever  did  when  reading  law,  and  has  never  yet  com 
plained  of  how  dry  and  dull  it  all  is.  He  is  a  big, 
warm-hearted  fellow,  too,  and  I  am  growing  more 
fond  of  him  every  day.  He  is  more  devoted  to  me 
than  a  brother,  and  we  have  made  a  lot  of  plans  for 
a  month's  outing  on  the  '  Gypsy '  this  coming  summer. 
I  like  his  family  very  much,  and  Mrs.  Nason  and  both 
her  daughters  have  invited  me  to  bring  you  down 
when  your  school  closes  to  make  them  a  visit.  I 
think  I  shall  run  up  in  June,  and  stay  over  Sunday, 
and  bring  Frank  with  me.  I  imagine  he  would  like 
to  come,  for  once  in  a  while  I  overhear  him  humming 
'  Ben  Bolt.' " 

"  A  very  nicely  worded  little  plot ;  but  don't  you 
imagine,  my  dear  Bert,  I  do  not  see  through  it ! "  was 
the  mental  comment  of  Alice  when  she  read  the  letter. 


SWEET   ALICE  129 

"  The  young  gentleman  has  bravely  set  to  work  to 
become  a  man  instead  of  a  cipher ;  my  brother  likes 
him ;  he  whistles  '  Ben  Bolt ; '  my  brother  is  to  bring 
him  up  here  again ;  I  am  expected  to  fall  in  love  with 
Mr.  Cipher  that  was,  and  help  him  spend  his  money, 
and  I  am  to  be  barely  tolerated  by  mamma  and  both 
sisters !  A  most  charming  plot,  surely,  but  it  takes 
two  to  make  a  bargain.  I  think  I  know  just  the  sort 
of  people  mamma  and  sisters  are.  He  told  me  she 
read  him  a  lecture  every  time  he  danced  twice  with  a 
poor  girl,  and  now  I  am  expected  to  walk  into  the 
same  trap,  and  cringe  to  her  ladyship,  for  the  sin  of 
being  poor.  I  guess  not !  I'll  teach  school  till  I  die 
first,  and  he  can  think  of  me  as  having  a  '  slab  of 
granite  so  gray '  to  keep  me  in  place." 

But  this  diplomatic  "  Sweet  Alice  "  wrote  to  her 
brother :  "  I  am  delighted  that  you  are  coming  up, 
for  I  am  so  lonesome,  and  the  weeks  drag  so  hard ! 
Bring  your  friend  up,  by  all  means,  and  I'll  sing 
'  Ben  Bolt '  until  he  hates  the  name  of  Sweet  Alice. 
The  country  will  be  looking  finely  then,  and  he  can 
go  over  to  the  cemetery,  and  select  the  corner  I  am 
to  occupy.  Pardon  the  joke,  and  don't  tell  him  I 
uttered  it." 

To  Frank  she  wrote  :  "  Be  sure  to  come  up  with 
Bert.  I  will  sing  all  the  old  songs,  and  the  new  ones 


130  UNCLE  TERRY 

you  have  sent  me,  as  well.  If  you  come  up  on  a 
Thursday  you  may  visit  my  school  Friday  afternoon, 
if  you  will  behave,  and  then  you  can  see  the  girl  you 
sent  the  candy  to.  She  wears  a  calico  pinafore,  and 
comes  to  school  barefooted." 

Consistency,  thy  name  is  woman ! 

From  all  this  it  may  be  inferred  that  Alice  was 
just  a  little  coquettish,  and  that  verdict  is  no  doubt 
true.  Like  all  her  charming  sex  who  are  blessed 
with  youth  and  beauty,  she  was  perfectly  conscious 
of  it,  and  quite  willing  to  exert  its  magic  power  on  a 
susceptible  young  man  with  dark  curly  hair  and 
earnest  brown  eyes.  Neither  was  she  impervious  to 
the  fact  that  this  said  young  man  was  a  possible  heir 
to  plenty  of  money.  She  never  had  much  lavished 
on  her,  and,  while  not  having  suffered  for  the  neces 
saries  of  life,  she  had  had  to  deny  herself  all  luxuries, 
and,  most  vexatious  denial  of  all,  a  new  gown  and  hat 
many  times  when  she  needed  them.  Her  tactful 
reply  to  her  brother's  letter,  coupled  with  his  own 
sincere  affection  for  her,  brought  her  a  response  by 
return  mail  in  the  form  of  a  check  for  one  hundred 
dollars,  with  explicit  orders  to  spend  every  cent  of  it 
before  he  came. 

Whether  she  did  or  not  we  will  leave  to  the  imag 
ination  of  all  young  ladies  so  situated. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

A   BY-WAY   SCHOOLHOUSB 

SANDGATE  was  just  budding  forth  in  a  new  suit  of 
green,  the  meadows  dotted  with  white  and  yellow 
daisies,  and  here  and  there  a  bunch  of  tiger  lilies 
waved  in  the  breeze,  when  one  Friday  afternoon  the 
teacher  at  the  north  district  school  heard  a  knock. 

The  class  in  reading,  then  in  evidence,  were  halted 
in  their  sing-song  of  concert  utterance  and  Alice 
Page  opened  the  door  to  find  two  stalwart  young  men 
standing  there.  With  a  quick  impulse  of  propriety 
she  stepped  out  and  closed  the  door  behind  her,  only 
to  find  herself  clasped  in  a  big  brother's  arms  and 
to  receive  a  smack  that  was  heard  by  every  pupil  in 
the  little  schoolroom.  With  a  very  red  face  she 
freed  herself  and  then  presented  a  small  hand  to  the 
other  young  man  with  the  remark : 

" 1  think  you  are  both  just  as  mean  as  you  can  be 
to  surprise  me  in  this  way!" 

Her  eyes  told  a  different  tale,  however,  and  when 
explanations  were  duly  made,  the  two  visitors  were 


132  UNCLE   TERRY 

invited  inside  and  given  seats.  The  class  in  reading 
was  then  dismissed  and  that  in  spelling  called  to 
what  was  now  seemingly  to  them  an  unexpected 
misery.  A  bombshell,  or  a  ghost  at  the  window, 
would  not  have  produced  any  more  consternation  than 
those  two  strange  visitors.  This  class,  that  one  by 
one  filed  up  in  front  of  the  teacher's  desk,  and  ranged 
themselves  in  line,  stood  trembling,  and  the  boy 
at  the  head,  to  whom  was  put  the  first  word,  was 
unable  to  utter  a  sound.  The  next  one  spelled  it 
wrong,  and  it  was  tried  by  two  others  and  finally 
spelled  right  by  a  girl  who  could  hardly  do  better 
than  whisper  it.  She  was  told  to  go  to  the  head, 
and  after  that  the  rest  did  better.  The  search  for 
knowledge  in  that  school  had  received  a  set-back, 
however,  for  that  day,  and  Alice  decided  to  do  the 
wisest  thing  and  dismiss  her  band  of  pupils  with 
out  delay.  When  the  room  was  cleared  of  them  she 
turned  to  her  two  callers  and  said  with  mock  seri 
ousness  :  "  The  first  class  in  deportment  will  now 
define  propriety." 

"  Propriety  is  —  is  —  Propriety,"  replied  her 
brother,  "  consists  in  two  young  men  surprising  one 
small  and  very  saucy  schoolma'am  and  letting  a  lot  of 
imprisoned  boys  and  girls  escape  to  the  woods  and 
enjoy  an  extra  hour  of  freedom," 


A   BY-WAY   SCHOOLHOUSE  133 

"Not  right,"  said  Alice  severely;  "the  next  pupil 
will  now  answer." 

"  Propriety,"  answered  Frank,  "  consists  in  two 
young  men  escaping  from  the  city  and  relieving  one 
tired  school-teacher  from  her  duty  and  permitting  her 
to  go  and  gather  flowers  if  she  will.  But  which  was 
the  girl  you  told  the  fairy  tale  to,  Miss  Page  ?  "  he 
added,  as  Alice  began  putting  her  books  away. 

"  The  only  one  in  the  spelling-class  you  two  bold 
bad  men  didn't  scare  half  out  of  her  wits,"  she  an 
swered. 

Frank  walked  about  the  room,  peering  curiously  at 
its  rather  primitive  fittings.  Around  three  sides  ex 
tended  a  breast-high  shelf,  carved  and  cut  by  many  a 
jack-knife,  and  beneath  it  a  narrower  one  where  books 
and  slates  were  stowed.  In  front  were  rows  of  back 
less  benches  for  seats,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  room 
an  open  stove  shaped  like  a  fireplace.  Around  this 
were  three  long,  low  seats  with  backs,  and  on  the  sides 
where  the  door  was,  a  desk  stood  on  a  low  platform. 
Back  of  this  a  large  blackboard  formed  part  of  the 
wall,  one  end  covered  by  the  multiplication  tables. 
No  part  of  the  room  was  plastered,  and  overhead  the 
bare  brown  stringers  held  extra  benches  kept  there 
for  use  on  examination  days. 

"  So  this  is  what  you  call  a  temple  of  learning,"  he 


134  UNCLE   TERRY 

remarked,  as  lie  surveyed  the  barn-like  room ;  "  it  is 
a  curiosity  to  me,  and  the  first  time  I  was  ever  in  an 
old-time  country  schoolhouse.  I  should  like  to  peep 
through  one  of  the  knot-holes  some  day,  and  watch 
the  performances,  and  hear  a  scared  boy  speak  a 
piece." 

"  You  had  better  not  try  it,"  answered  Alice,  "  un 
less  you  want  two  or  three  farmers  to  swoop  down  on 
you,  armed  with  scythes,  and  demanding  to  know 
what  you  are  doing  there." 

When  she  had  locked  the  schoolhouse  door  they 
got  into  the  carriage  the  two  young  men  had  come 
in,  and  left  the  forlorn  little  temple  to  the  solitude 
of  the  trees  and  bushes  that  almost  hid  it  from 
sight. 

"I  will  stop  in  the  village,"  said  Albert,  as  they 
drove  away,  "  and  leave  you  two  to  go  home  or  take  a 
ride,  as  suits  you  best ;  only  mind,  be  home  by  tea- 
time,  for  I  shall  be  hungry." 

There  is  no  time  when  a  drive  along  wooded  coun 
try  roads  is  more  charming  than  when  the  trees  are 
fast  growing  green,  and  the  meadows  spangled  with 
daisies  and  buttercups. 

"Let's  go  around  by  the  mill-pond,"  said  Alice, 
after  leaving  her  brother  in  the  village  ;  "  that's  where 
we  went  skating  last  Christmas,  and  the  road  to  it 


A   BY-WAY   SCHOOLHOUSE  135 

follows  the  brook  up  a  mile.  We  may  find  a  few 
lilies  in  the  pond." 

The  brook  beside  which  they  were  soon  walking  the 
horse  was  a  charming  bit  of  scenery  as  it  came  leaping 
over  mossy  ledges,  laughing,  chattering,  and  filling 
the  pools  with  foam  flecks,  and  the  old  mill,  with  its 
great  wheel  dripping  and  clattering,  and  the  mill  it 
self,  proved  even  a  greater  curiosity  to  Frank  than  the 
schoolhouse.  He  hitched  the  horse,  and  helping  his 
fair  companion  to  alight,  the  two  went  inside  the  mill 
and  watched  the  rumbling  wheels.  Alice  introduced 
her  escort  to  the  miller,  and  after  they  had  been  shown 
the  mysteries  of  grinding  he  invited  them  out  to  the 
pond,  and  after  bailing  the  old  leaky  boat  so  it  was 
usable,  the  two  visitors  started  after  the  lilies. 

"  Mind  you  don't  tip  me  over,"  said  Alice.  "  I 
can't  swim." 

"  If  I  do  I'll  rescue  you  or  drown  with  you,"  he 
answered  gallantly.  What  silly  nothings  these  two 
young  people  uttered  as  they  made  the  circuit  of  that 
long  wood-bordered  mill-pond  need  not  be  recorded. 
One  at  least  was  just  tasting  the  first  sweet  illusion 
of  love,  and  the  glassy  surface  of  the  water  that 
reflected  the  trees  bending  over  it,  the  bunches  of 
water  flag  growing  here  and  there,  and  the  scattered 
patches  of  broad  lily  pads  with  now  and  then  a  white 


136  UNCLE   TEKRY 

blossom,  made  a  most  picturesque  background  for  the 
girl  who  sat  in  the  stern.  Her  piquant  face,  shaded 
by  a  broad  sun-hat,  was  fairer  to  his  eyes  than  any  of 
the  lilies  she  plucked,  and  as  she  drew  one  sleeve  up 
a  little  to  reach  for  them,  the  round  arm  and  dimpled 
hand  she  thrust  into  the  water  looked  tempting 
enough  to  kiss.  The  miller  had  shut  the  gate  and 
gone  home  when  they  returned  to  the  mill,  and  when 
Alice,  with  both  her  wet  hands  full  of  lilies,  was 
helped  into  the  carriage,  Frank  said :  "  I  am  sorry 
that  dusty  old  miller  has  gone.  I  wanted  to  give 
him  five  dollars  for  his  kindness." 

"  He  would  think  you  insane  if  you  did,"  answered 
Alice. 

"  Many  a  man  has  lost  his  wits  with  less  provoca 
tion,"  replied  Frank  pointedly,  "  and  I  feel  indebted 
to  him  for  his  help  to  one  of  the  most  charming  hours 
I  ever  passed." 

"That  is  all  right,"  responded  Alice;  "he  has 
known  me  ever  since  I  was  a  little  tot  in  short  dresses 
and  rode  to  mill  with  father.  He  would  do  more  for 
me  than  bail  his  boat  out." 

"  Do  you  know,"  remarked  Frank,  when  they  had 
left  the  mill  behind  and  were  driving  through  a  bit 
of  woods,  "that  I  have  anticipated  this  visit  for 
weeks  ?  I  know  scarcely  anything  about  the  country 


A   BY-WAY   SCHOOLHOUSE  137 

and  it  is  all  a  revelation  to  me.  I've  seen  pictures  of 
old  mills  and  ponds  covered  with  lilies,  but  no  painter 
can  ever  put  the  reality  on  canvas.  Why,  that  great 
wheel  covered  with  moss  and  churning  away  all  day, 
so  steadily,  with  a  willow  bending  over  it,  is  a  poem 
in  itself ! " 

"  The  mill  was  built  over  a  hundred  years  ago," 
observed  Alice,  "and  has  been  grinding  away  ever 
since.  I  love  to  visit  it,  for  it  takes  me  back  to  child 
hood  and,"  she  added  a  little  sadly,  "  it  makes  me  live 
over  the  happiest  days  of  my  life,  when  father  used 
to  take  me  with  him  everywhere  he  went." 

U4But  the  mill  will  never  grind  with  the  water 
that  has  passed,' "  quoted  Frank,  "  '  and  the  tender 
grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead  will  never  come  back 
again,  'tis  said.'  I  wish  I  had  been  country  born.  I 
think  I've  missed  countless  pages  of  pleasant  memo 
ries.  Do  you  know,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  com 
panion,  "  I  am  rapidly  falling  in  love  with  the  country 
and  —  and  its  pretty  sights  ?  " 

It  was  in  his  heart  to  say  "  you  "  as  he  saw  the 
half-pathetic  expression  on  his  companion's  face  and 
noted  the  sad  droop  of  her  sweet  mouth,  but  his 
courage  failed  him. 

He  was  enough  in  love  with  her  already  to  begin 
to  feel  afraid  of  her.  "  I  must  bide  my  time,"  he 


138  UNCLE   TERRY 

thought ;  "  she  is  not  to  be   won  easily,  and  a  word 
too  soon  may  spoil  all." 

"  Whose  idea  was  it  to  pounce  upon  me  that  way 
at  school?"  exclaimed  Alice  suddenly,  throwing  off 
her  retrospective  mood  and  smiling  again.  "  Was  it 
yours  or  Bert's  ?  " 

"  I  confess  I  did  it  with  my  little  hatchet,"  answered 
Frank ;  "  I  coaxed  Bert  to  do  it.  We  had  to  take  the 
train  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  have  coffee 
and  rolls  at  the  station  for  breakfast  and  pie  and  sand 
wiches  for  dinner." 

"  And  all  to  surprise  one  poor  little  schoolma'am 
and  break  up  her  school,"  put  in  Alice  ;  "  was  it  worth 
all  that  annoyance  ?  " 

"  Up  to  the  present  moment,"  answered  Frank,  "  I 
must  honestly  say  it  was.  This  drive  and  the  mill  I 
consider  cheap  at  any  price." 

"  I  don't  mean  this  part  of  the  surprise,"  said  Alice, 
blushing  a  little  at  his  open  admiration,  "  and  you 
know  it."  And  then  in  self-defence  she  added, 
"  What  has  become  of  the  '  Gypsy '  ?  Bert  writes  me 
that  you  two  are  planning  trips  in  her  already." 

"  She  is  still  in  winter  quarters,"  answered  Frank. 
"  I've  been  too  busy  studying  law  to  do  more  than 
think  of  her.  I've  reformed,  you  know." 

Alice  made  no  reply.     The  memory  of  what  he  had 


A   BY-WAY   SCHOOLHOTJSE  139 

so  evidently  wished  her  to  infer  regarding  his  reasons 
for  this  new  departure  came  to  her  in  an  instant 
and  brought  a  little  wonderment  as  to  the  possible 
outcome  of  it.  Turn  which  way  she  would,  and  pro 
pose  what  topic  she  might,  he  seemed  bound  to  use 
it  as  a  vehicle  of  his  undisguised  admiration.  She 
had  wished  to  consider  him  as  a  friend,  because  he 
had  been  a  friend  to  her  adored  brother  when  that 
brother  needed  one,  and  while  she  had  written  him  a 
dozen  chatty  letters  which  might  be  printed  for  all 
the  privacy  they  contained,  she  had  studiously  re 
frained  from  allowing  him  to  infer,  even,  that  she 
had  any  special  interest  in  his  actions.  That  he 
came  to  woo  her,  he  was  plainly  allowing  her  to 
infer  by  every  word  and  look,  and  she  had  feminine 
wit  enough  to  see  that  it  was  earnest  wooing,  and 
not  the  simulated  article  usually  designated  as  gal 
lantry. 

"  I  must  avoid  giving  him  opportunities,"  she  said 
to  herself,  "or  he  will  make  some  rash  declaration 
and  spoil  our  pleasant  acquaintance." 

When  they  arrived  home  Albert  was  on  the  piazza 
and  Aunt  Susan  had  supper  waiting.  The  table  was 
set  with  blue  ware  of  a  very  old  and  quaint  pattern, 
and  when  Alice  had  filled  a  bowl  with  lilies  for  a 
centrepiece  they  gathered  around  and  "passed  things  " 


140  UNCLE   TEKRY 

in  true  country  fashion.  The  evening  was  unusually 
warm  for  June,  and  after  the  two  young  men  had 
smoked  and  chatted  for  half  an  hour,  Alice  appeared 
dressed  in  spotless  white,  with  a  half-open  lily  in  her 
hair  and  another  at  her  throat.  .The  moon,  which 
was  nearing  its  full,  shone  through  the  open  spaces  of 
the  vine-clad  porch  and  added  an  ethereal  touch  to 
the  sylph-like  picture  she  presented,  and  one  that  was 
certainly  not  lost  upon  Frank  at  least. 

"  Well,"  she  remarked  cheerfully,  as  she  seated 
herself  near  her  brother,  "  my  time  is  yours,  and  what 
can  I  do  to  entertain  you  ?  " 

"I  had  planned  to  take  Frank  to  a  trout  brook 
to-morrow  morning,"  responded  Albert,  "  and  in  the 
afternoon  you  and  he  can  hunt  for  mill-ponds  and 
grottoes  if  you  like,  or  gather  laurel." 

"  And  leave  me  alone  all  the  forenoon !  "  put  in 
Alice.  "  No,  thank  you.  I'm  shut  up  for  five  days 
and  you  can't  get  rid  of  me  so  easily.  Why  can't  I 
go  too?" 

"  I'm  agreeable,"  replied  her  brother,  "only  a  trout 
brook  is  not  nice  walking  for  a  lady." 

"  I'm  aware  of  that,"  she  responded,  "  and  you  two 
can  go  fishing  and  I'll  hunt  for  laurel  in  the  mean 
time.  We  can  take  a  basket  of  lunch  with  us  and 
make  a  day  of  it  in  the  woods."  Then,  as  a  possible 


A   BY-WAY   SCHOOLHOUSE  141 

contingency  presented  itself  to  her,  she  added,  "  Why 
not  let  me  invite  my  friend,  Abby  Miles,  to  go  for 
company  ?  She  and  I  can  pick  laurel,  and  when  you 
have  caught  all  the  harmless  little  trout  you  want, 
we  can  meet  where  we  leave  the  wagon  and  have  a 
picnic." 

"That  suits  me,"  said  her  brother,  and  without 
waiting  for  further  discussion  this  diplomatic  fairy  in 
white  arose  and  remarked,  "  I'll  get  a  shawl,  and  then 
I'll  trouble  you,  Mr.  Nason,  to  escort  me  over  to 
Abby's.  It's  only  a  few  rods,  and  I  want  you  to 
meet  her.  She's  ever  so  nice." 

From  this  it  may  be  inferred  that  our  "Sweet 
Alice  "  had  resolved  to  protect  herself  against  any 
romantic  tete-d-tetes  in  the  woods  with  a  certain  well- 
intentioned  but  presuming  young  man  who  might 
desire  to  play  Romeo. 

This  was  not  quite  to  his  taste,  but  he  had  the  good 
sense  not  to  show  it,  and  all  the  next  day  he  divided 
his  attentions  impartially  between  the  two  young 
ladies.  The  plan  as  mapped  by  Alice  was  carried  out 
to  the  letter,  and  when  the  two  young  men  joined 
the  girls  at  noon  they  found  a  broad  flat  rock  in  the 
woods  had  been  covered  with  a  tablecloth  and  spread 
with  a  tempting  meal.  The  girls  had  gathered  great 
bunches  of  that  beautiful  flower  pink  laurel,  and  a 


142  UNCLE  TERRY 

cluster  of  it  decked  the  table.  After  dinner  our  im 
perious  Alice  insisted  that  they  visit  the  mill-pond 
once  more,  and  when  they  returned  at  night,  with 
two  baskets  of  trout,  and  laurel  and  pond  lilies  enough 
to  stock  a  flower  stand,  the  day  was  voted  an  eminent 
success. 

Frank  made  one  error,  however,  for  just  before  they 
left  the  mill  he  slipped  away  unobserved,  and  finding 
the  miller,  put  a  bit  of  paper  into  his  hand  with  the 
remark,  "  Keep  this  to  pay  for  the  boat,"  and  left  him 
hurriedly.  When  the  old  man  made  examination  he 
found  he  had  a  five-dollar  bill.  To  surprises  of  this 
kind  he  was  not  accustomed,  and  before  noon  the  next 
day  there  wasn't  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  Sandgate 
who  had  not  heard  of  it. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

VILLAGE   GOSSIP 

u  What  care  I  what  the  world  may  say, 
So  long  as  I  have  my  way  to-day?  — 

For  this  dear  old  world, 

This  queer  old  world, 
With  tongue  like  sands  of  the  sea, 

Is  never  so  gay 

As  when  wagging  away, 
And  talking  of  you  and  of  me." 

THAT  evening  Frank  begged  for  music,  and  Alice 
sung  for  two  long  hours.  At  least  they  might  have 
seemed  long  to  any  but  an  enraptured  young  man 
who  had  for  the  entire  day  been  kept  from  uttering 
one  of  the  many  love-lorn  words  that  filled  his  heart. 
Albert,  who  had  been  informed  by  Alice  that  if  he 
deserted  her  for  a  single  moment  that  evening  or  the 
next  he  need  never  bring  his  friend  there  again, 
sat  outside  on  the  porch  and  close  by  the  window, 
smoking  incessantly  and  smiling  to  himself  at  the 
clever  tactics  of  his  charming  but  coy  sister.  When 


144  UNCLE   TERRY 

the  concert  was  ended  he  observed,  "  If  there's  one 
song  in  the  house  that  you  have  not  sung,  Alice,  I 
wish  you  would  sing  it.  I  hate  to  have  you  omit 
any." 

"  I  have  only  sung  what  I  was  asked  to,"  she 
replied ;  "  is  not  that  so,  Mr.  Nason  ?  " 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  he  boldly,  "  and  you  have 
not  sung  one  that  I  wouldn't  enjoy  hearing  again 
to-night." 

"  Oh,  I  have  enjoyed  them  all,"  said  Albert,  "  only 
I  thought  you  might  have  missed  one,  and  as  Frank 
remarked  coming  home  that  he  was  hungry  for  music, 
I  wanted  him  satisfied." 

The  next  day,  as  usual,  they  attended  church,  only 
this  time  all  three  walked  back  together,  although 
Albert  felt  that  he  was  one  too  many,  and  all  the 
afternoon  and  evening  it  was  the  same.  But  Alice 
was  graciousness  personified.  All  her  jokes  and 
smiles  and  all  her  conversation  were  lavished  upon 
Frank.  It  may  be  that  she  wished  to  make  amends 
for  the  opportunities  she  knew  he  was  anxious  to 
obtain  but  could  not,  for  the  most  charming  of  women 
have  a  little  of  the  feline  instinct  in  their  nature,  and 
whether  there  is  any  response  to  a  man's  wooing  in 
their  hearts  or  not,  they  love  to  enjoy  their  power. 
Several  times  Frank,  who  intuitively  felt  she  did  not 


VILLAGE   GOSSIP  145 

wish  to  be  left  alone  with  him,  started  to  ask  her  to 
take  a  walk  that  Sunday  evening,  but  each  time  his 
discretion  prevailed.  "  If  she  is  willing  to  listen  to 
any  love-making,  she  has  tact  enough  to  give  me  a 
chance,"  he  thought,  "  and  unless  she  is,  I'd  better 
keep  still."  Which  would  show  he  had  at  least  a 
faint  inkling  of  woman's  ways.  The  evening  was 
one  to  tempt  Cupid,  for  the  moonlight  fell  checkered 
through  the  half-naked  elms  along  the  roadway,  and 
where  here  and  there  a  group  of  maples  stood  was  a 
bit  of  shadow.  The  whippoorwills  had  just  returned 
to  Sandgate,  and  over  the  meadows  scattered  fireflies 
twinkled.  The  houses  along  the  way  to  the  village 
were  wide  apart  and  the  evening  air  just  right  for  a 
loitering  walk.  To  Frank,  anxious  to  say  a  few 
words  that  would  further  his  hopes  in  the  direction 
of  this  bewitching  girl,  it  seemed  a  waste  of  good 
time  not  to  take  advantage  of  the  evening.  It  was 
almost  past,  and  the  lights  in  the  houses  across  the 
valley  had  long  since  vanished  when  he  obtained  a 
little  consolation. 

The  charm  of  the  evening  had  stilled  conversation 
and  no  one  had  spoken  for  a  long  time  when  he  said, 
rather  disconsolately,  "  My  anticipated  visit  is  almost 
over.  May  I  ask  you  to  go  in  and  sing  just  one  song 
for  me,  Miss  Page  ?  " 


146  UNCLE   TERKY 

"With  pleasure,"  she  responded  in  her  sweetest 
tone,  "what  shall  it  be?" 

"  I  will  leave  that  to  your  selection,"  he  replied. 

Without  a  word  she  led  the  way  in  and  began 
searching  among  the  pile  of  music  on  the  piano,  and 
finding  what  she  wanted,  opened  and  spread  the 
music  on  the  rack. 

It  was  "  Ben  Bolt." 

She  sang  it  in  a  minor  key,  and  as  the  opening 
words, 

"  Oh,  don't  you  remember  sweet  Alice,  Ben  Bolt," 

floated  out  on  the  still  evening  air,  they  seemed  to 
him  fraught  with  a  new  meaning  and  that  a  veri 
table  sweet  Alice  was  bidding  him,  another  Ben  Bolt, 
not  to  forget  her.  When  the  last  note  had  faded 
into  the  night  air,  she  turned  her  now  serious  eyes 
toward  him  and  said  : 

"  Did  I  guess  right  ?  " 

How  much  he  longed  to  take  that  fair  girl  in  his 
arms  then  and  there  and  ask  her  to  be  his  own  sweet 
Alice  need  not  be  specified.  For  a  moment  her 
tender  blue  eyes  met  his  brown  ones,  and  then  they 
fell. 

"  I  am  glad  I  did  not  make  a  mistake,"  she  said 
softly. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  almost  whispered,   "  and  there 


VILLAGE   GOSSIP  147 

won't  be  many  waking  moments  in  my  future  when  I 
shall  not  think  of  —  sweet  Alice  !  " 

It  was  not  much  of  a  love  scene,  but  to  him  it 
seemed  a  wide-open  door  of  hope,  and  when  many 
miles  separated  them,  and  for  days,  weeks,  and  months 
afterward,  even  when  doing  his  best  to  crowd  dull 
law  reports  into  his  brain,  the  one  tender  glance  she 
gave  him  and  the  tones  of  her  voice  came  back  with 
unfailing  accuracy. 

There  is  no  spot  where  every  one  knows  everybody 
else's  business  and  discusses  it  that  is  quite  equal  in 
this  way  to  a  small  country  town,  and  Sandgate  was 
no  exception.  The  first  visit  of  Frank  Nason  to  the 
Page  home,  his  sleigh-rides  with  Alice,  and  his  ap 
pearance  at  church  had  caused  no  end  of  comment. 
It  was  known  that  he  had  been  a  classmate  of  Albert's 
and  came  from  Boston,  and  later  Aunt  Susan  vouch 
safed  the  information  that  she  "  guessed  he  came  from 
one  o'  the  first  families  and  that  he  appeared  right 
well  behaved." 

It  was  all  she  really  did  know,  for  both  Alice  and 
her  brother  were  considerate  of  her  failings  and  knew 
it  was  not  safe  to  discuss  their  visitor  in  her  presence. 
The  tempest  of  gossip  had  not  more  than  half  quieted 
down  when  it  received  a  regular  boom  from  his  second 
coming.  The  pupils  of  the  north  end  district  school 


148  UNCLE   TERRY 

spread  the  news  of  their  teacher's  unexpected  callers ; 
that  they  heard  her  kiss  one,  and  which  one  they  did 
not  know ;  and  that  she  had  dismissed  school  at  once 
and  gone  on  with  the  stranger.  Old  Amos  Curtis, 
the  miller,  told  of  their  visit,  and,  wonder  upon 
wonder,  how  the  next  day  "  her  beau  "  had  given  him 
a  five-dollar  bill  "  jest  fer  lettin'  'em  use  a  leaky  old 
boat  fer  an  hour." 

The  buxom  Abby  Miles  had  the  best  and  longest 
story  to  tell,  and  her  praise  of  Mr.  Nason,  how  polite 
he  was,  and  "how  he  couldn't  keep  his  eyes  off'n 
Alice  all  the  afternoon,"  was  whispered  to  every  girl 
she  knew.  The  five-dollar  incident  created  the  most 
gossip,  however.  The  miller  had  remarked  that  a 
"young  feller  who  threw  money  'round  that  way 
must  be  rich,"  and  that  remark  soon  grew  into  a 
story  that  Alice  Page's  beau  was  worth  a  million,  and 
that  she  was  engaged  to  him. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  subject  of  all  this  gossip 
heard  none  of  it  until  the  storm  had  reached  alarming 
proportions.  Some  of  the  village  swains  who  had 
tried  to  pay  court  to  her  and  failed  were  inclined  to 
sneer  at  the  "  smart  young  man  from  the  city  "  who 
had  cut  them  out ;  but  the  older  people  and  the  girls 
were  disposed  to  congratulate  her  upon  what  they 
considered  her  good  luck.  It  was  this  inclination 


VILLAGE   GOSSIP  149 

that  led  Mrs.  Mears  to  be  the  first  one  to  tell  the 
extent  of  the  gossip. 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  that  worthy  matron  to  Alice 
one  Sunday,  after  church,  "  that  you  ain't  likely  to 
teach  school  after  this  summer." 

"  And  why  not?"  answered  Alice,  conscious  that 
she  was  likely  to  hear  a  choice  bit  of  gossip ;  "  don't  I 
give  satisfaction  ?  " 

"  Oh,  'tain't  that,"  was  the  answer ;  "  I  guess  you 
can  imagine  the  reason  and  I  want  to  be  the  first  to 
congratulate  you.  They  tell  me  he's  worth  a  pile  o' 
money,  an'  he's  sartinly  well  favored,  so  far  as  looks 
goes,  but  then,  '  handsome  is  as  handsome  does  '  was 
allus  my  motto." 

Alice  colored. 

"  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Nason,  my  brother's  friend  ?  " 
she  said  nervously. 

"  Why,  who  else  would  I  mean  ?  "  responded  Mrs. 
Mears.  u  I've  heard  that  you  was  to  be  married  this 
fall,  and  that  he  is  worth  a  million.  They  say  he 
told  Amos  Curtis  he  was,  though  I  don't  believe  that, 
but  anyway,  Amos  says  he  gave  him  five  dollars  '  jest 
fer  usin'  his  old  boat  that  wa'n't  worth  splittin'  up  for 
kindlin's ! '  " 

It  was  all  out  now,  and  in  a  moment  Alice  saw 
through  the  whole  story  and  up  to  its  source.  For 


150  UNCLE   TERRY 

one  instant  she  felt  as  if  the  entire  town  was  staring 
at  her,  and  grew  correspondingly  red.  It  was  unfor 
tunate,  for  several  besides  Mrs.  Hears  were  observing 
her  and  drew  their  jown  conclusions.  As  for  the 
worthy  gossiper  who  had  enlightened  Alice,  the  blush 
she  saw  rise  on  her  cheeks  and  spread  until  it  glowed 
all  over  her  face  and  throat  was  confirmation  enough. 

"  It's  not  true,  not  one  word  of  it,"  exclaimed  Alice 
angrily,  "and  if  you  care  for  me  one  bit,  I  wish  you 
would  tell  everybody  I  said  so." 

She  waited  to  hear  no  more,  nor  for  Aunt  Susan, 
who  had  lingered  to  chat  with  some  one,  but  walked 
home  alone  and  hurriedly,  as  if  to  hide  herself.  Once 
in  the  silent  house,  she  began  to  cool  off. 

"  I  won't  believe  he  told  Amos  he  was  worth  a  mill 
ion,"  she  said  to  herself,  — "  he  isn't  so  stupid  as  that ; 
but  I  am  afraid  the  silly  boy  did  give  him  five  dollars, 
which  has  started  all  this  gossip." 

When  Aunt  Susan  came  in  she  fairly  pounced  upon 
her.  "  Why  haven't  you  told  me,  auntie,  about  all 
this  gossip  that's  going  the  rounds  regarding  Mr.  Na- 
son  and  myself?  I  know  you  have  heard  it." 

"It's  all  nonsense,  Alice,"  answered  that  lady  rather 
sharply,  "  and  you  are  foolish  to  listen  to  'em.  I've 
heard  it,  of  course,  but  so  long  as  it's  no  discredit  to 
you,  why,  let  it  go  into  one  ear  and  out  t'other,  same 


VILLAGE   GOSSIP  151 

as  I  do !  Folks  must  talk  in  this  town,  an'  what 
they're  sayin'  'bout  you  ought  to  make  you  feel 
proud  —  that  a  young  fellow  like  him,  and  worth 
money,  wanted  to  come  courtin',  an'  he  certainly 
showed  he  did,  or  I'm  no  judge." 

It  was  homely  advice,  and  from  the  standpoint  of 
Aunt  Susan,  as  well  as  most  of  the  world-wise  matrons 
of  Sandgate,  it  was  good  advice. 

"  He's  got  Aunt  Susan  on  his  side  as  well  as  Bert," 
Alice  thought,  "  and  I  am  glad  I  kept  him  at  a  dis 
tance  now,  just  to  pay  him  for  being  so  silly  with  his 
money." 

Late  that  afternoon  Alice  called  upon  Abby  Miles, 
and  talked  about  everything  except  the  subject  she 
most  wanted  to  talk  about,  and  then,  as  Abby  usually 
had  a  Sunday  evening  caller,  Alice  came  home  at 
dusk.  Never  before  had  the  house  seemed  so  lone 
some,  and  as  she  sat  on  the  porch  and  tried  to  talk 
with  Aunt  Susan  her  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

When  the  lights  across  the  valley,  which  served  as 
curfew  by  saying  bed-time  when  they  went  out,  had  dis 
appeared,  she  came  in,  and  seating  herself  in  the  dark 
at  the  piano  softly  played  the  chords  and  hummed  the 
words  of  a  song  which  need  not  be  mentioned. 

"  It'll  come  out  all  right,"  said  Aunt  Susan  to  her 
self,  and  she  waited  till  Alice  called  to  her  to  come  in 
and  go  to  bed. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

PLOTS   AND   PLANS 

"  THE  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  and  men,"  etc., 
proved  itself  true  in  Frank  Nason's  case.  He  had 
consoled  himself  during  the  many  months  of  hard 
study  with  visions  of  a  yachting-trip  in  July  and 
August,  when  perhaps  in  some  manner  Alice  Page 
could  be  induced  to  come,  with  his  mother  and  sisters 
to  chaperone  her,  and  her  brother  and  some  other 
friends  to  complete  the  party. 

He  had  the  "  Gypsy  "  put  in  first-class  shape  and 
all  her  state-rooms  refurnished,  and  one  in  particular, 
which  he  intended  Alice  should  occupy,  upholstered 
in  blue.  So  well  formed  were  his  plans  that  he  timed 
the  start  so  as  to  utilize  the  July  moon  for  the  first  ten 
days,  and  mapped  out  a  trip  taking  in  all  the  Maine 
coast,  spending  a  week  at  Bar  Harbor  and  then  a  run  up 
as  far  east  as  Annapolis  Bay  and  the  coast  of  Acadia. 

He  had  described  all  the  charms  of  this  trip  to 
Alice  and  extended  to  her  the  most  urgent  invitation. 
He  had  obtained  her  brother's  promise  to  supplement 


PLOTS   AND   PLANS  153 

it  and  also  to  make  one  of  the  party,  and  he  had  per 
suaded  his  sister  Blanch  to  aid  him  with  his  mother, 
but  he  had  met  discouragement  on  all  sides.  In  the 
first  place,  Alice  wrote  it  was  doubtful  if  she  could 
go.  It  would  be  a  delightful  outing,  and  one  she 
would  enjoy,  but  it  would  not  be  right  to  leave  Aunt 
Susan  alone  for  so  long,  and  then  as  her  school  did 
not  close  until  the  last  of  June,  she  would  have  no 
time  to  get  ready.  These  were  not  the  sole  reasons 
for  her  reluctance,  and  in  fact  she  made  no  mention 
of  what  was  her  principal  reason.  He  did  not  under 
stand  that  Alice  Page  was  too  proud-spirited  to  ap 
pear  willing  to  put  herself  in  his  way  and  accept  an 
invitation  having  for  its  ultimate  object  the  giving  of 
an  opportunity  to  him  to  court  her.  Then  to  accept 
his  family's  protectorship  and  hospitality  for  that 
same  end  was  even  more  obnoxious.  With  true  femi 
nine  discretion  she  did  not  dare  confide  this  reason  to 
her  brother,  and  perhaps  it  was  wise  she  did  not. 

To  cap  the  climax  of  Frank's  discomfiture,  when 
July  came  his  mother  announced  that  she  had  decided 
to  go  to  the  mountains  for  the  summer,  and  then  he 
saw  his  nicely  laid  plans  were  to  be  an  utter  failure. 

"  It's  no  use,  Bert,"  he  said  to  his  friend  one  even 
ing,  "  I  wanted  your  sister  to  go  to  Maine  with  us, 
and  mother  and  the  girls  and  a  few  more  to  make  a 


154  UNCLE   TERRY 

party,  but  it's  no  go.  I  can't  induce  your  sister  to 
join  us,  and  it's  no  use  if  she  would,  for  mother  has 
determined  to  go  to  Bethlehem,  and  that  settles  it. 
I  feel  like  going  out  and  getting  full.  If  you  and  I 
have  any  outing  on  the  yacht,  we  must  make  up  a 
gander  party." 

"  That  suits  me  just  as  well  as,  and  in  fact  better 
than,  the  other  plan,"  replied  Albert  consolingly.  "  If 
we  have  a  lot  of  ladies  along  we  must  dance  attendance 
upon  them,  and  if  not  we  can  fish,  smoke,  play  cards, 
sing,  or  go  to  sleep  when  we  feel  like  it.  I  tell  you, 
Frank,"  he  continued,  evidently  desiring  to  cheer  up 
that  young  man,  "  girls  are  all  right  as  companions  at 
home  or  at  balls  and  theatres,  but  on  a  yacht  they  are 
in  the  way.  Not  only  are  they  liable  to  seasickness, 
but  at  every  bit  of  rough  water  they  will  get  scared 
and  make  no  end  of  trouble." 

It  was  very  good  philosophy  and  to  a  certain  extent 
true,  although  it  did  not  agree  with  Frank's  feelings, 
but  then  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  was  suffering 
from  the  pangs  of  love,  while  his  mentor  was  not. 

A  week  afterward,  and  early  one  bright  morning, 
the  "  Gypsy,"  with  skipper,  crew,  and  a  party  of  eight 
jolly  young  men  on  board,  sailed  out  of  Boston  and 
that  night  dropped  anchor  under  the  lee  of  an  island 
in  Casco  Bay.  She  remained  there  one  full  day  and 


PLOTS    AND    PLANS  155 

the  next  ran  to  Boothbay  and  found  shelter  in  a  land 
locked  cove  forming  part  of  the  coast  line  of  South- 
port  Island.  It  was  after  dinner  next  day,  and  while 
the  rest  of  the  party  were  either  playing  cards  or 
napping  in  hammocks  under  the  awning,  that  Albert 
Page  took  one  of  the  boats,  his  pipe,  and  sketch  book, 
and  rowed  down  the  coast  a  mile  to  an  inlet  he  had 
noticed  the  day  before.  The  outer  point  of  this  was 
formed  by  a  bold  cliff  that  he  desired  to  sketch,  and 
pulling  the  boat  well  up  behind  the  inner  point,  tying 
the  painter  to  a  rock  and  taking  the  cushions  along, 
he  found  a  shady  spot  and  sat  down.  The  sloping 
rock  he  selected  for  a  seat  was  a  little  damp,  but  he 
thought  nothing  of  it,  and  lighting  his  pipe  began 
sketching.  He  worked  for  an  hoar,  putting  the  weed- 
draped  rocks  and  long  swells  that  broke  over  them 
into  his  book,  and  then,  lulled  perhaps  by  the  monot 
onous  rhythm  of  the  ocean,  lay  back  on  the  cushions 
and  fell  asleep.  The  next  he  knew  he  was  awakened 
by  a  cold  sensation  and  found  the  tide  had  risen  until 
it  wet  his  feet.  Hastily  getting  up,  he  took  the 
cushions  and  returned  to  where  he  had  left  the  boat, 
only  to  find  it  had  disappeared.  The  rising  tide  had 
lifted  the  boat  and  painter  from  the  rocks,  and  it  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  There  must  be  some  road  back  up  on  the  island/' 


156  UNCLE  TERRY 

he  thought,  "  that  will  lead  me  near  the  cove  where 
the  '  Gypsy '  is,"  and  still  retaining  the  cushions,  he 
started  to  find  it.  But  he  was  a  stranger  to  South- 
port  Island  and  the  farther  away  from  the  sea  he  got, 
the  thicker  grew  the  tangle  of  scrub  spruce  and 
briers.  It  was  too  thick  to  see  anywhere,  and  after  a 
half  hour  of  desperate  scrambling,  the  afternoon  sun 
began  to  seem  about  due  east!  He  had  long  since 
dropped  the  cushions,  and  finally,  in  sheer  exhaustion, 
sat  down  on  a  rock  to  collect  himself.  "  It  looks  as 
though  I'm  billed  to  stay  here  all  night,"  he  thought, 
as  he  noted  the  lowering  sun,  "and  nobody  knows 
how  much  longer !  There  must  be  a  road  somewhere, 
though,  and  I'm  going  to  find  it  if  the  light  lasts 
long  enough."  He  started  once  more  and  had  not 
gone  ten  rods  ere  he  came  to  one,  and  then  he  breathed 
easier.  His  clothes  were  torn,  his  hands  and  face 
scratched  by  briers,  and  to  save  himself  he  couldn't 
make  it  seem  but  that  the  sun  was  setting  in  the  east  J 
He  sat  down  to  think.  All  sound  of  the  ocean  was 
gone  and  a  stillness  that  seemed  to  crawl  out  of  the 
thicket  was  around  him.  He  rested  a  few  moments 
more,  and  then  suddenly  heard  the  sound  of  wheels 
and  presently  saw,  coming  around  the  curve,  an  old- 
fashioned  carryall,  worn  and  muddy,  and,  driving  the 
horse  at  a  jog  trot,  a  man  as  dilapidated-looking  as 


PLOTS   AND   PLANS  157 

the  vehicle.  Gladdened  at  the  sight,  he  arose,  and 
holding  up  his  hand  as  a  signal,  halted  the  team. 
"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said  to  the  man,  who  eyed  him 
curiously,  "  but  will  you  tell  me  where  I  am  ?  " 

"  Wai,"  was  the  answer  in  a  slow  drawl,  "  ye'r'  on 
Southport  Island,  and  'bout  four  miles  from  the 
jumpin'  off  place.  Whar  might  ye  be  goin'  ?  Ye  look 
bushed." 

"  I  am,"  answered  Page,  "  and  badly  bushed  too. 
I  lost  my  boat  over  back  here  on  the  shore,  and  have 
had  a  cheerful  time  among  the  Mohawk  briers.  I 
belong  to  a  yacht  that  is  anchored  in  a  cove  of  this 
island,  I  can't  tell  where,  and  if  you  will  take  me  to 
her  I'll  pay  you  well." 

The  man  in  the  wagon  laughed. 

"  Say,  stranger,"  he  observed  with  a  chuckle,  "  you 
'mind  me  o'  the  feller  that  got  full  and  wandered 
round  for  a  spell  till  he  fetched  up  to  a  house,  an' 
sed  to  the  man  that  cum  to  the  door,  '  If  you  will  tell 
me  who  I  am,  or  whar  I  am,  or  whar  I  want  ter  go,  I'll 
give  ye  a  dollar  ! ' : 

Page  had  to  laugh  in  spite  of  his  plight,  for  the 
humorous  twinkle  in  the  old  man's  eyes  as  he  uttered 
his  joke  was  infectious. 

"  I'd  like  ter  'commodate  ye,"  he  added,  "  but  as  I'm 
carryin'  Uncle  Sam's  mail,  an'  must  git  home  an' 


158  UNCLE   TERRY 

tend  the  light,  and  as  ye  don't  know  whar  ye  want  ter 
go,  ye  best  jump  in  an'  go  down  to  Saint's  Rest,  whar 
I  live,  an'  in  the  mornin'  we'll  try  an'  hunt  up  yer 
boat." 

It  seemed  the  only  thing  to  do,  and  Albert  availed 
himself  of  the  chance. 

"  Can  you  tell  the  spot  where  you  found  me  ?  "  he 
said  to  the  man  as  they  started  on.  "  I'd  like  to  go 
back  there  to-morrow  and  find  my  cushions." 

"  Wai,"  was  the  answer,  "  as  I've  druv  over  this 
road  twice  a  day  for  nigh  onto  thirty  year,  I'm  toler 
able  familiar  with  it.  My  name's  Terry,  an'  I'm  keeper 
o'  the  light  at  the  Cape,  an'  carry  the  mail  to  sorter 
piece  out  on.  Who  might  ye  be  ?  " 

"  My  name's  Page,  and  I'm  from  Boston,  and  a  law 
yer  by  profession,"  replied  Albert. 

Uncle  Terry  eyed  him  rather  sharply. 

"  I  wouldn't  'a'  took  ye  fer  one  o'  them  dern  pick 
pockets,"  he  said,  "  ye  look  too  honest.  I  ain't  much 
stuck  on  lawyers,"  he  added,  with  a  chuckle.  "  I've 
had  'sperence  with  'em.  One  of  'em  sold  me  a  hole 
in  the  ground  onct,  an'  it  cost  me  the  hull  o'  twenty 
years'  savin's  !  You'll  'scuse  me  fer  bein'  blunt  —  it's 
my  natur." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind,"  responded  Albert  laugh 
ingly  ;  "  not  all  of  my  profession  are  thieves, 


PLOTS   AND   PLANS  159 

though  some  are.  You  mustn't  judge  us  all  by  one 
rascal." 

They  drove  on,  and  as  they  jogged  up  and  down 
the  sharp  hills  he  caught  sight  here  and  there  of  the 
ocean,  and  alougside  the  road,  which  consisted  of  two 
ruts,  a  path,  and  two  grass-grown  ridges,  he  saw  wild 
roses  in  endless  profusion.  On  either  hand  was  an 
interminable  thicket.  In  the  little  valleys  grew 
masses  of  rank  ferns,  and  on  the  ridges,  interspersed 
between  the  wild  roses,  clusters  of  red  bunch-berries. 
The  sun  was  almost  down  when  they  reached  the 
top  of  a  long  hill  and  he  saw  at  its  foot  a  small 
harbor  connected  with  the  ocean  by  a  narrow  inlet, 
and  around  it  a  dozen  or  more  brown  houses.  Be 
yond  was  a  tangle  of  rocks  and,  rising  above  them, 
the  top  of  a  white  lighthouse.  Uncle  Terry,  who  had 
kept  up  a  running  fire  of  questions  all  the  time, 
halted  the  horse  and  said : 

"  Ye  can  now  take  yer  first  look  at  Saint's  Rest, 
otherwise  known  as  the  Cape.  We  ketch  some 
lobsters  an'  fish  here  an'  hev  prayer-meetin's  once  a 
week."  Then  he  chirruped  to  the  horse  and  they 
rattled  down  the  hill  to  a  small  store  where  he  left  a 
mail  pouch,  and  then  followed  a  winding  road  between 
the  scattered  houses  and  out  to  the  point,  where  stood 
a  neat  white  dwelling  close  beside  a  lighthouse. 


160  UNCLE  TERRY 

"  I'll  take  ye  into  the  house,"  said  Uncle  Terry  as 
the  two  alighted,  "  an'  tell  the  wimmin  folks  to  put 
on  an  extra  plate,  an*  then  I'll  put  up  the  hoss." 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  putting  your  family  to  some  in 
convenience,"  responded  Albert,  uand  as  it  is  not 
dark  yet,  I  will  walk  out  on  the  point.  I  may  see 
the  yacht  and  save  you  all  trouble." 

The  sun,  a  ball  of  fire,  was  almost  at  the  horizon, 
the  sea  all  around  lay  an  unruffled  expanse  of  dark 
blue,  undulating  with  the  ground  swells  that  caught 
the  red  glow  of  the  sinking  sun  as  they  came  in  and 
broke  upon  the  rocks.  Albert  walked  on  to  the 
highest  of  the  shore  rocks  and  looked  about.  There 
was  no  sign  of  the  "  Gypsy,"  and  only  one  boat  was 
visible,  and  that  a  dory  rowed  by  a  man  standing  up 
right.  Over  the  still  waters  Albert  could  detect  the 
measured  stroke  of  his  oars.  That  and  the  low  rum 
ble  of  the  ground  swells,  breaking  almost  at  his  feet, 
were  the  only  sounds.  It  was  like  a  dream  of  soli 
tude,  far  removed  from  the  world  and  all  its  distrac 
tions.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  contemplating 
the  ocean  alight  with  the  setting  sun's  red  glow,  the 
gray  rocks  at  his  feet  and  the  tall  white  lighthouse 
towering  above  him,  and  then  started  around  the 
point.  He  had  not  taken  ten  steps  when  he  saw  the 
figure  of  a  girl  leaning  against  a  rock  and  watching 


PLOTS   AND   PLANS  161 

the  setting  sun.  One  elbow  was  resting  on  the  rock, 
her  face  reposing  in  her  open  hand  and  fingers  half 
hid  in  the  thick  masses  of  hair  that  shone  in  the  sun 
light  like  burnished  gold.  A  broad  sun-hat  lay  on 
the  rock,  and  the  delicate  profile  of  her  face  was 
sharply  outlined  against  the  western  sky. 

She  had  not  heard  Albert's  steps,  but  stood  there 
unconscious  of  his  scrutiny.  He  noted  the  classic 
contour  of  her  features ;  the  delicate  oval  of  her  lips 
and  chin ;  and  his  artist  eye  dwelt  upon  and  admired 
her  rounded  bosom  and  perfect  shoulders.  Had  she 
posed  for  a  picture,  she  could  not  have  chosen  a 
better  position,  and  so  alluring,  and  withal  so  sweet 
and  unconscious,  that  for  a  moment  he  forgot  all  else, 
even  his  own- rudeness  in  standing  there  and  staring  at 
her.  Then  he  recovered  himself,  and  turning,  softly 
retraced  his  steps  so  as  not  to  disturb  her.  Who  she 
was  he  had  110  idea,  and  was  still  wondering,  when 
he  met  Uncle  Terry,  who  at  once  invited  him  into  the 
house. 

"  This  'ere's  Mr.  Page,  Lissy,"  he  said,  as  they 
entered,  and  met  a  stout,  elderly,  and  gray-haired 
woman  ;  "  I  found  him  up  the  road  a  spell,  an'  wantin' 
to  know  whar  he  was  !  " 

Albert  bowed,  and  was  surprised  to  see  her  advance 
and  greet  him  with  a  cordial  handshake. 


162  UNCLE   TERRY 

"  I  am  sorry  to  intrude,"  he  said,  "  but  I  had  lost 
my  boat,  and  all  points  of  the  compass,  when  your 
husband  kindly  took  me  in  charge." 

He  started  to  say  he  would  pay  for  all  trouble,  but 
fortunately  did  not,  and  then  being  offered  a  chair, 
sat  down  and  was  left  alone.  For  ten  minutes,  that 
seemed  longer,  he  surveyed  the  plainly  furnished 
sitting-room,  with  open  fireplace,  a  many  colored  rag- 
carpet  on  the  floor,  old-fashioned  chairs,  and  dozens 
of  pictures  on  the  walls.  They  caught  his  eye  at 
once,  mainly  because  of  the  oddity  of  the  frames, 
which  were  evidently  home-made,  for  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  more,  and  then  a  door  was  opened,  and  Uncle 
Terry  invited  him  into  a  lighted  room  where  a  table 
was  set.  The  elderly  lady  was  standing  at  one  end 
of  it,  and  beside  her  a  younger  one,  and  as  Albert 
entered  he  heard  Uncle  Terry  say :  "  This  is  our  gal 
Telly,  Mr.  Page,"  and  as  he  bowed  he  saw,  garbed 
in  spotless  white,  the  girl  he  had  seen  leaning  against 
the  rock  and  watching  the  sunset. 


CHAPTER   XX 

A   PAIR   OF   BLUE   EYES 

SOME  men  have  their  fancy  caught  by  a  woman's  face 
or  form,  or  both ;  others  by  a  look,  a  word,  a  smile. 
A  witty  reply  to  some  masculine  jest  has  tipped 
many  an  arrow  for  Cupid  and  won  for  a  maiden  a 
lover. 

The  appealing  yet  wondering  glance  that  Albert 
Page  met  as  he  bowed  to  the  girl  standing  beside  the 
table  that  evening  was  one  he  never  afterwards  for 
got.  It  was  only  one,  for  after  that,  and  during  the 
entire  meal,  her  blue  eyes  were  kept  veiled  by  their 
long  lashes,  or  modestly  directed  elsewhere. 

"  It's  a  charming  spot  down  here,"  he  remarked 
soon  after  the  meal  began,  "  and  so  hidden  away  that 
it  is  a  surprise.  I  noticed  the  light  as  we  came  in, 
but  did  not  see  the  village." 

"  Wai, ye  didn't  miss  anything,"  responded  his  host; 
"  none  o'  the  houses  are  much  for  style,  an'  mebbe  it's 
lucky  they're  hid  behind  the  rocks." 

"  I  thought  them  quaint  and  comfortable,"  observed 


164  UNCLE   TEKRY 

Albert;  "but  what  an  odd  name  you  have  for  the 
place  !  Why  do  you  call  it  Saint's  Rest  ?  " 

"  Chiefly  'cause  none  o'  the  people  have  any  chance 
to  become  sinners,  I  reckon,"  was  the  answer ;  "  it's  a 
trifle  lonesome  in  the  winter,  though." 

"  I  suppose  fishing  is  your  principal  occupation 
here,"  continued  Albert,  seeing  that  sentiment  was 
not  considered  by  Uncle  Terry ;  "  your  land  does  not 
seem  adapted  for  cultivation." 

"  There  ain't  much  chance  for  tillin',"  he  replied ; 
"  the  land's  wuss'n  whar  I  was  brung  up  down  in 
Connecticut,  an'  thar  we  had  ter  round  up  the  sheep 
once  a  week  an'  sharpen  thar  noses  on  the  grin'stun ! 
We  manage  ter  raise  'nough  ter  eat,  though." 

When  the  meal  was  over  Uncle  Terry  said,  "  It's 
nice  an'  cool  out  on  the  rocks,  and  thar's  some  seats 
out  thar ;  if  ye  enjoy  smoking  we  best  go  out  while 
the  wimmin  are  doin'  the  dishes." 

The  moon  that  Frank  had  planned  to  use  was  near- 
ing  its  full,  and  high  overhead,  and  as  the  two  men, 
so  widely  separated  in  all  respects,  sought  congeniality 
in  tobacco  out  on  that  lonesome  point,  Albert  could 
not  curb  his  admiration  for  the  scene.  His  offer  of  a 
cigar  to  his  host  had  been  accepted,  and  as  that  quaint 
man  sat  quietly  enjoying  an  odor  and  flavor  he  was 
certainly  unaccustomed  to,  Albert  said : 


A   PAIR   OF   BLUE   EYES  165 

"  This  experience  has  been  a  surprise  to  me  from 
the  moment  I  met  you.  I  had  an  ugly  hour's  scram 
ble  over  the  rocks  and  through  a  tangle  of  scrub 
spruce  and  briers  until  I  was  utterly  lost  and  believed 
this  island  an  impassable  wilderness.  Then  you  came 
along  and  brought  me  to  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
spots  I  ever  saw.  I  should  like  to  stay  here  all  sum 
mer  and  do  nothing  but  look  at  this  magnificent 
ocean  view  and  sketch  these  bold  shores." 

"Do  you  paint  picturs  too?"  queried  Uncle 
Terry,  suddenly  interested.  "  Telly's  daft  on  doing 
that,  an'  is  at  it  all  the  time  she  can  git !  "  Then  he 
added  with  a  slight  inflection  of  pride,  "Mebbe  ye 
noticed  some  o'  her  picturs  in  the  sittin'-room  ?  " 

"  I  saw  a  lot  of  pictures  there,"  answered  Albert, 
"  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see  them  well.  I  should  like 
to  look  at  them  in  the  morning." 

"  Ye'll  hev  plenty  o'  time,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  must 
pull  my  lobster  traps  fust,  an'  after  that  I'll  take  ye 
in  my  dory  an'  we'll  go  an'  find  yer  boat.  I  guess 
she  must  be  lyin'  in  Seal  Cove,  the  only  openin'  'twixt 
here  an'  the  head  she'd  be  likely  ter  run  into." 

"  And  so  your  daughter  is  an  artist,  is  she  ?  "  asked 
Albert,  indifferent  now  as  to  where  the  "  Gypsy  "  was 
or  when  he  was  likely  to  return  to  her.  He  came 
near  adding  that  that  fact  was  another  surprise,  but 


166  UNCLE    TERRY 

did  not.  Instead  he  said,  "  Has  she  ever  taken 
lessons  ?  " 

"  No,  it  comes  nat'ral  to  her,"  replied  Uncle  Terry ; 
"  she  showed  the  bent  o'  her  mind  'fore  she  was  ten 
years  old,  an'  she's  pestered  me  ever  since  ter  git  her 
canvas  an'  paints  an'  sich.  But  then,  I'm  willin' 
ter,"  he  added  in  a  tender  tone.  "  Telly's  a  good 
girl  and  Lissy  and  me  set  great  store  by  her.  She's 
all  we've  got  in  the  world  ;  "  then  pointing  to  a  small 
white  stone  just  to  the  right  of  where  they  were,  he 
added,  "  Thar's  whar  the  other  one's  been  layin'  fer 
mor'n  twenty  years." 

"  This  one  has  grown  to  be  a  very  beautiful  girl," 
said  Albert  quietly,  "and  you  have  reason  to  be 
proud  of  her." 

Uncle  Terry  made  no  reply,  but  seemed  lost  in  a 
reverie,  and  Albert  slowly  puffed  his  cigar  and  looked 
out  on  the  ocean,  and  along  the  ever-widening  path 
of  moonlight.  He  very  much  wished  that  this  fair 
girl,  so  quaintly  spoken  of,  were  there  beside  him,  that 
he  might  talk  to  her  about  her  art.  And  as  he  grew 
curious  and  a  bit  surprised  at  the  sort  of  people  he 
had  unexpectedly  come  upon,  a  little  desire  to  know 
at  least  one  of  them  a  good  deal  better  came  to  him. 
How  it  could  be  managed,  and  what  excuse  to  give 
for  remaining  longer  than  the  morrow,  he  could  not 


A   PAIR    OF    BLUE   EYES  167 

see,  and  yet  very  much  wished  to  find  one.  He  looked 
toward  the  house,  white  in  the  moonlight,  with  the 
tall  lighthouse  and  its  beacon  flash  just  beyond,  and 
wondered  if  he  should  see  the  girl  again  that  night. 
He  hoped  he  might,  and  was  on  the  point  of  suggest 
ing  they  go  in  and  visit  a  little  with  the  ladies  when 
Uncle  Terry  said : 

44  I  believe  ye  called  yerself  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Page, 
an'  from  Boston.  Do  ye  happen  to  know  a  lawyer 
thar  that  has  got  eyes  like  a  cat,  an'  a  nose  like  a 
gentleman  from  Jerusalem,  an'  rubs  his  hands  as  if  he 
was  washin'  'em  while  he's  taikin'  ?  " 

Albert  gave  a  start.  "I  do,  Mr.  Terry,"  he 
answered,  "I  know  him  well.  His  name  is  Frye, 
Nicholas  Frye." 

44  An'  as  you're  a  lawyer,  an'  one  that  looks  to  me 
as  honest,"  continued  Uncle  Terry,  "  what  is  your 
honest  opinion  o'  this  Mr.  Frye  ?  " 

44  That  is  a  question  I  would  rather  not  answer," 
replied  Albert,  "  until  I  know  why  you  ask  it,  and 
what  your  opinion  of  Mr.  Frye  is.  Mine  might  not 
flatter  him,  and  I  do  not  believe  in  speaking  ill  of 
anybody  unless  forced  to." 

Uncle  Terry  was  silent,  evidently  revolving  a  seri 
ous  problem  in  his  mind.  44 1  am  goin'  ter  beg  yer 
pardon,  Mr.  Page,"  he  said  at  last,  44  fer  speakin'  the 


168  UNCLE    TERRY 

way  I  did  regardin'  lawyers  in  gineral.  My  'sperence 
with  'em  has  been  bad,  an'  naterally  I  don't  trust  'em 
much.  I've  had  some  dealin's  with  this  ere  Frye 
'bout  a  matter  I  don't  want  to  tell  'bout,  an'  the  way 
things  is  workin'  ain't  as  they  should  be.  I  b'lieve 
I'm  robbed  right  along,  an'  if  ye'r'  willin'  ter  help  me 
I  shall  be  most  tarnally  grateful,  an'  will  give  ye  my 
word  I'll  never  let  on  ter  anybody  what  ye  say  —  an' 
Silas  Teriy  never  yit  broke  his  promise." 

Albert  silently  offered  his  hand  to  Uncle  Terry,  who 
grasped  it  cordially.  "  I  will  tell  you,  Mr.  Terry,"  he 
said  after  the  handshake,  "  all  I  know  about  Mr.  Frye 
and  what  my  opinion  is  of  him.  What  your  business 
with  him  is,  matters  not.  I  am  certain  you  are  an 
honest  man  and  will  keep  your  word.  I  recently 
worked  for  Mr.  Frye  six  months  and  left  him  to  open 
an  office  for  myself.  He  offered  me  more  than  double 
what  he  had  been  paying  to  remain,  but  no  money 
would  tempt  me  to  do  it.  In  that  six  months  I 
became  satisfied  Nicholas  Frye  was  the  most  unprin 
cipled  villain  ever  masked  under  the  name  of  lawyer. 
If  all  those  you  have  had  business  with  were  like  him 
I  don't  wonder  at  your  remark  today."  « 

Uncle  Terry  leaned  forward  with  elbows  on  his 
knees,  resting  his  face  in  the  palms  of  his  hands,  and 
ejaculated:  "I  knew  it!  I  knew  it!  I'm  a  blamed  old 


A   PAIR    OF   BLUE   EYES  169 

fool  an'  ought  ter  hev  a  keeper  put  over  me  !  "  Then 
turning  to  Albert  he  added,  "I've  paid  that  dum 
thief  over  four  hundred  dollars  this  year  an'  hain't 
got  a  scrap  o'  paper  ter  show  fer't,  and  nothin's  been 
done  so  fer  as  I  kin  see  'bout  the  business."  He 
meditated  a  few  moments,  and  then  turning  around 
suddenly  added,  "My  wife  an'  Telly  don't  know 
nothin'  'bout  this,  and  I  don't  want  they  should. 
Thar's  a  sucker  born  every  minit  and  two  ter  ketch 
him,  an'  I  b'lieve  it !  I've  been  ketched  an'  skinned 
fer  dead  sure  !  I  want  ter  sleep  on't,  an'  mebbe  in  the 
mornin'  I'll  tell  ye  the  hull  story,  an'  how  I've  been 
made  a  fool  of.  I'm  beginnin'  ter  think  I  kin  trust 

ye." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,"  answered 
Albert,  "and  if  I  can  help  you  any  way  I  will." 

When  the  two  returned  to  the  house  Albert  was 
shown  to  a  room  that  reminded  him  of  his  boyhood 
home,  the  old-fashioned  bed,  spotless  counterpane, 
and  muslin  curtains  all  seemed  so  sweet  and  whole 
some.  A  faint  odor  of  lavender  earned  him  back  to 
the  time  when  his  mother's  bed  linen  exhaled  the  same 
sweet  fragrance.  He  lighted  a  cigar  and  sat  down  by 
a  window  where  crisp  salt  sea  air  came  in,  and  tried  to 
fathom  what  manner  of  business  Uncle  Terry  could 
have  with  Frye.  It  was  an  enigma,  and  as  he  looked 


170  UNCLE    TEBBY 

out  on  the  wide  expanse  of  moonlit  ocean  where  every 
wave  sparkled  with  silvery  light,  and  listened  to  the 
ceaseless  rhythm  of  the  long  swells  breaking  upon  the 
rocks  almost  under  his  window,  he  could  not  solve  it. 
That  the  odd-spoken  old  man  was  in  sore  distress  was 
evident,  and  for  an  hour  Albert  watched  the  sparkling 
sea  in  vain  imaginings  as  to  what  Uncle  Terry's  busi 
ness  with  Frye  could  be.  And  into  his  meditation 
also  crept  the  face  and  form  of  the  girl  he  had  first 
seen  watching  the  sunset. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A   NEW   CLIENT 

WHEN  Albert  arose  the  next  morning  the  sun  was 
just  appearing  round  and  red  out  of  the  ocean,  and  a 
crisp  breeze  blowing  into  the  open  windows.  He 
heard  the  stir  of  some  one  below,  and,  dressing  quickly, 
descended  to  the  sitting-room.  No  one  was  there, 
and  he  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  curiously 
framed  paintings  that  almost  covered  the  wall. 

One  in  particular  caught  his  eye.  It  was  a  ship 
careened  on  the  ocean  with  waves  breaking  upon  her. 
She  was  resting  on  rocks  that  barely  showed  beneath, 
and  in  her  rigging,  heavily  covered  with  ice,  were 
five  men.  All  around  was  the  sea,  tossed  into  giant 
waves,  curling  and  breaking  about  the  stranded  ves 
sel.  He  noted  the  life-like  shading  of  the  green  and 
white  billows  ;  the  ice  that  covered  every  shroud  and 
rope  and  spar ;  and  peering  out  of  a  cabin  door  was  a 
woman  holding  a  babe  in  her  arms.  In  a  way  it  was 
a  ghastly  picture,  and  one  that  held  his  attention 
from  all  the  rest. 


172  UNCLE   TERRY 

It  was  framed  in  a  broad  flat  moulding  covered 
with  shells.  He  was  still  gazing  at  it  when  he  heard 
Uncle  Terry's  voice  bidding  him  good  morning. 

"  Ain't  ye  up  a  little  arly  ?  "  said  that  worthy ;  "  I 
hope  ye  slep'  well.  I  ginerally  roust  out  by  day 
light  an'  put  out  the  light  an'  then  start  a  fire,  but 
thar  was  no  need  o'  you  gittin'  out  so  soon." 

"I  think  the  waves  woke  me,"  replied  Albert,  "  and 
the  morning  is  so  beautiful  I  couldn't  waste  it  in  bed." 

"  I'm  goin'  over  to  the  cove  to  mend  a  trap,"  con 
tinued  Uncle  Terry,  "  an'  if  yeY  willin',  I'd  like  ter 
hev  ye  go  along  too.  The  wimmin'll  hev  breakfast 
ready  by  that  time,  an'  then  I'll  take  ye  up  to  Seal 
Cove  an'  see  if  yer  boat's  thar." 

He  seemed  depressed  and  not  inclined  to  talk,  and 
as  Albert  sat  on  an  overturned  dory  and  watched  him 
puttering  away  over  a  lobster  trap,  he  began  to  feel 
sorry  for  him.  His  hat  had  fallen  off  and  the  sea 
winds  blew  his  scant  fringe  of  gray  hair  over  his  bald 
head.  His  brown  shirt  was  open  at  the  throat,  dis 
closing  a  bony  neck,  and  his  well-worn  garments 
showed  the  outlines  of  a  somewhat  wasted  form. 
What  impressed  Albert  more  than  all  this  was  the 
dejected  manner  of  Uncle  Terry.  It  was  as  if  an  unex 
pected  sorrow  had  come  upon  him.  When  he  finished 
fixing  the  trap  he  pulled  a  dory  in  that  was  moored 


A   NEW   CLIENT  173 

out  in  the  cove  and  carefully  bailed  and  wiped  it 
clean.  When  this  was  done  he  said  almost  wistfully : 
"  I've  worried  a  good  deal  'bout  what  you  told  me 
last  night,  an'  I'd  like  ter  have  a  good  talk  with  ye. 
I  s'pose  ye'r'  anxious  ter  see  yer  friends  an'  let  'em 
know  ye'r'  all  safe,  an'  I'll  take  ye  up  the  island  the 
fust  thing  an'  then  go  an'  pull  my  traps,  and  then  if 
ye'r'  willin'  we'll  sot  down,  if  it  ain't  askin'  too  much 
o'  ye  ter  wait,"  he  added  almost  pathetically.  "  I'll 
get  Telly  to  show  ye  her  picture,  and  mebbe  ye  can 
give  her  some  pints  as'll  help  her." 

"  I  shall  be  more  than  glad  to  do  so,"  replied  Al 
bert,  "  but  if  that  shipwreck  scene  is  hers,  she  needs 
no  advice  from  me." 

Uncle  Terry  looked  pleased,  but  made  no  answer. 
On  the  way  back  to  the  house  he  said :  "  I'd  ruther 
ye'd  make  no  mention  to  the  wimmin  of  our  hevin' 
any  talk." 

At  the  breakfast  table  he  seemed  in  better  spirits, 
and  more  like  himself. 

"I  think  ye  told  me  last  night,"  he  remarked, 
addressing  Albert,  "  that  ye  painted  picturs  yerself 
some."  And  then  turning  to  Telly  he  added :  "  Mr. 
Page  is  comin'  back  here  bimeby,  jest  to  look  'round, 
an'  mebbe  he'd  like  ter  look  at  some  o'  yourn." 

Telly's   face   flushed    slightly.      "I   shall  be   de- 


174  UNCLE   TERRY 

lighted,"  added  Albert,  "  if  Miss  Terry  will  favor  me. 
Will  you  ?  "  he  added  in  a  persuasive  tone. 

"  I  do  not  feel  that  my  pictures  are  good  enough  to 
show  to  strangers,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice ;  "  I 
have  never  had  any  lessons  or  any  one  to  show  me." 

"  From  what  I've  noticed  in  your  sitting-room,"  re 
sponded  Albert  quickly,  "  you  need  not  be  ashamed 
to  show  them  to  an  artist.  I  am  not  one.  I  only 
sketch  a  little,  just  as  a  remembrance  of  places  I 
visit,  but  I  love  pictures  even  better  than  music." 

"  I  will  gladly  show  you  what  I  have  done,"  replied 
Telly  simply,  and  there  the  conversation  ended. 
When  the  meal  was  over  Albert  observed :  "  With 
your  permission,  Mrs.  Terry,  I  would  like  to  make  a 
sketch  of  your  home  and  the  lighthouse,  and  after  Mr. 
Terry  has  helped  me  find  my  friends  I  am  coming 
back."  Then  turning  to  Telly  he  added  :  "  I  can  then 
feel  easy  in  my  mind,  and  shall  enjoy  looking  over 
your  paintings." 

"  Won't  ye  stop  to  dinner  with  us  ?  "  asked  Aunt 
Lissy,  as  Albert  thanked  her  for  her  hospitality; 
"  we'll  be  glad  to  have  ye." 

"  I  will,  thank  you,"  replied  Albert;  "  this  point, 
and  in  fact  this  village,  was  such  a  surprise  to  me,  and 
is  so  charming,  I  am  going  to  devote  all  my  day  to  it." 
Then  bidding  the  ladies  good  morning,  he  followed 


A  NEW  CLIENT  175 

Uncle  Terry  over  to  the  cove,  where  they  boarded  his 
dory  and  started  out  to  find  the  "  Gypsy." 

Albert  had  spoken  truly  when  he  expressed  surprise 
at  the  charms  of  the  Cape  and  Uncle  Terry's  home, 
and  not  the  least  of  it  was  the  hospitality  shown  him 
in  that  home.  But  perhaps  the  greatest  surprise  of 
all  was  the  finding  of  so  fair  a  girl  as  Telly  hid  away, 
as  it  were,  in  an  unheard-of  corner  of  the  world. 
"  And  she  has  the  soul  of  an  artist  in  her,"  he  said  to 
himself,  as  Uncle  Terry  pulled  the  dory  out  of  the 
harbor  and  up  the  coast  towards  where  he  had  been 
left  stranded;  uand  what  eyes,  and  what  a  perfect 
form !  " 

Then,  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  when  they 
rounded  a  point,  there  was  the  "  Gypsy "  following 
the  island  shore  down  to  meet  them.  Albert  stood 
up  and  waved  his  cap.  He  was  answered  by  the 
whistle,  and  in  an  instant  every  one  on  board  of  her, 
even  the  crew,  were  out  on  her  bows  and  waving  caps 
lustily.  The  skipper  kept  the  whistle  blowing,  and 
as  the  yacht  slowed  down  and  Uncle  Terry  pulled 
alongside,  Albert  was  seized  and  almost  dragged  on 
board.  Frank  was  so  overjoyed  he  hugged  him,  and 
then  gave  vent  to  a  war-whoop  that  might  have  been 
heard  the  entire  length  of  Southport  Island. 

"  We  guessed  what  had  happened  to  you,"  he  said, 


176  UNCLE   TERRY 

"  when  we  picked  up  your  boat.  It  was  almost  dark 
when  one  of  the  crew  saw  an  empty  boat  floating  up 
the  bay.  We  were  all  down  in  the  cabin  at  that 
time,  and  had  not  noticed  how  late  it  was,  when  he 
called  us.  Two  of  the  crew  lowered  the  other  boat, 
and  when  they  got  back  with  yours  we  nearly  had  a 
fit.  The  missing  cushions  and  loop  on  the  painter 
gave  us  a  clue,  and  we  half  expected  you  would  find 
your  way  back  to  the  4  Gypsy  '  by  land." 

"  I  guess  you're  not  much  acquainted  with  the  inte 
rior  of  Southport  Island,"  put  in  Albert;  and  then 
going  forward  he  brought  back  Uncle  Terry,  and 
introduced  him  to  the  crowd.  By  this  time  the 
"  Gypsy  "  was  almost  down  to  the  Cape,  and  under 
one  bell,  and  the  direction  of  Uncle  Terry,  she  slowly 
steamed  in.  That  worthy  man  had  been  looking  over 
her,  and  his  admiration  was  evident. 

"  A  purty  slick  craft,  boys,"  he  said  to  the  party, 
as  the  "  Gypsy's  "  anchor  ceased  rattling  out  of  the 
hawse-hole,  —  "a  purty  slick  craft,  an'  must  'a'  cost  a 
heap  o'  money." 

Then  as  he  pulled  his  own  weather-beaten  dory  that 
had  been  towing  astern  along  to  the  gangway,  Albert 
stepped  up  to  him  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Will  you  excuse  me  a  little  while,  Mr.  Terry  ? 
I  want  to  change  my  clothes,  and  in  an  hour  or  so  I 


A  NEW  CLIENT  177 

will  come  ashore,  and  not  only  thank  you  for  all  your 
kindness,  but  make  you  a  visit." 

When  Uncle  Terry  had  gone  Albert  related  his 
experiences  for  the  past  eighteen  hours  to  the  party 
—  that  is,  all  but  one  incident,  or  rather  surprise,  and 
that  he  omitted  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself. 
Then  nothing  would  do  but  they  must  all  go  ashore, 
and  look  the  quaint  little  village  over. 

"  I  wish  you  would  keep  away  from  the  lighthouse, 
boys,"  Albert  said,  as  they  were  getting  into  their 
boat.  "  Mr.  Terry's  family  are  rather  sensitive  peo 
ple  and  may  not  like  to  have  a  lot  of  us  trooping 
around  their  place.  I  am  going  over  there  this  after 
noon  to  make  a  sketch,  and  then  I'll  ask  permission, 
and  we'll  all  go  there  some  other  day." 

He  had  whispered  to  Frank  to  remain  on  the  yacht, 
and  when  the  rest  were  gone  he  said  to  him  :  "  Frank, 
I  am  going  to  confide  something  to  you,  and  I  want 
you  to  promise  me  on  your  honor  not  to  hint  it  to  any 
of  our  friends."  When  that  astonished  young  man  had 
promised  to  keep  mum,  Albert  continued,  "  The  fact 
is,  Frank,  I've  tumbled  into  an  adventure,  and  fallen 
in  love  with  a  girl  on  sight,  and  without  having  ex 
changed  ten  words  with  her !  She  is  Mr.  Terry's 
daughter,  and  has  eyes  that  take  your  breath  away, 
and  a  form  like  the  Venus  of  Milo.  She  paints  pictures 


178  UNCLE   TERRY 

that  are  a  wonder,  considering  she  never  has  taken  a 
lesson,  and  has  a  face  more  bewitching  than  any 
woman's  I  ever  saw.  It  is  like  a  painter's  dream." 

"  Well,  you  have  gone  daft,  old  man,"  replied  the 
astonished  Frank,  breaking  into  a  laugh  in  which  Al 
bert  joined,  and  then  adding  with  mischief  in  his  eyes, 
"  Does  she  take  good  care  of  her  teeth  and  finger 
nails,  Bert  ?  " 

Albert  frowned.  "  Don't  for  heaven's  sake  mention 
her  in  the  same  breath  with  those  cigarette-smoking 
blemishes  on  their  sex !  "  he  answered ;  and  then  he 
added  more  pleasantly,  "  But  you  haven't  heard  it  all 
yet.  This  unique  old  man,  who  saved  me  from  sleep 
ing  all  night  in  a  thicket  of  briers,  and  who  has  opened 
his  heart  and  home  to  me,  has  fallen  into  the  clutches 
of  —  Nicholas  Frye  !  " 

"  Great  Scott !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  "  and  how  on 
earth  did  he  ever  find  Frye,  or  Frye  find  him  ?  Was 
your  old  man  of  the  island  hunting  around  Boston  for 
some  one  to  rob  him  ?  " 

"That  I  do  not  know  yet,"  replied  Albert;  "all  I 
know  is  that  Mr.  Terry  has  paid  Frye  about  four  hun 
dred  dollars,  and,  as  he  says,  so  far  has  nothing  to 
show  for  it.  What  the  business  was  I  expect  to  learn 
later.  Now  what  I  am  coming  at  is  this  :  can't  you 
manage  to  leave  me  here  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  or, 


A   NEW   CLIENT  179 

better  still,  make  it  two  days  ?  I'll  tell  the  boys  I've 
tumbled  into  a  bit  of  law  business,  which  is  what  I 
think  will  come  out  of  it,  and  you  can  run  down  to 
Bar  Harbor,  or  out  to  Monhegan  and  back  here  to 
morrow  night." 

"  Well,  I'll  do  that  gladly,"  replied  Frank  ;  and  then 
he  added  with  a  droll  smile,  "  It  will  give  you  a  chance 
to  say  a  few  sweet  things  to  this  girl  with  the  won 
drous  eyes,  eh,  Bert?" 

"  Please  don't  joke  me  about  her  before  the  rest  of 
the  crowd,"  said  Albert ;  "  remember  your  promise  !  " 

"  Well,  you  told  the  truth  when  you  said  you  had 
fallen  in  love  with  her,  I  guess,"  observed  Frank ;  "  a 
fellow  that  feels  that  way  about  a  girl  must  be  in 
love." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  replied  Albert,  "  what  you  say  may 
be  true,  but  I've  not  yet  insisted  upon  her  singing 
'  Ben  Bolt '  three  times  in  one  evening." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

TINGLE  TERRY'S  GUEST 

IT  was  nearly  noon  when  Albert  left  the  yacht.  He 
had  exchanged  his  bedraggled  yachting^suit  for  a 
neat  gray  one,  and  with  a  small  satchel,  his  sketch 
book,  and  a  box  of  choice  Havanas  for  Uncle  Terry, 
he  rowed  ashore.  For  three  hours  the  "  Gypsy  "  had 
been  the  cynosure  of  all  the  Cape  eyes,  old  or  young, 
for  a  handsome  two-hundred-ton  yacht  was  a  novelty 
in  their  little  harbor.  When  she  steamed  slowly  out, 
with  Frank  and  his  companions,  in  natty  white  duck 
suits,  grouped  on  her  stern,  she  was  a  pretty  sight, 
and  as  she  cleared  the  narrow  entrance,  the  crew  fired 
three  guns  and  dipped  her  flag  in  honor  of  Albert, 
and  then  he  picked  his  way  over  the  rocks  to  the 
lighthouse.  Uncle  Terry  had  not  returned  from 
hauling  his  lobster  traps,  and  Aunt  Lissy  and  Telly 
met  him  at  the  door.  It  is  likely  that  his  being  one 
of  the  yachting-party  impressed  them  a  little,  for 
they  were  both  dressed  in  their  best.  He  was  invited 
in,  and  then  Aunt  Lissy  said :  "  Please  excuse  me, 


UNCLE  TERRY'S  GUEST  181 

fur   I  have  dinner  to   git,  and   Telly  will  entertain 

ye." 

"  And  show  me  her  pictures,  I  hope,"  put  in  Albert, 
with  his  most  persuasive  smile. 

It  was  an  awkward  position  for  Telly,  and  one  that 
she  had  never  before  been  called  upon  to  fill.  Rather 
shy  naturally,  and  her  sole  acquaintance  with  the 
usages  of  society  limited  to  the  few  people  among 
whom  she  had  been  brought  up,  to  be  called  upon  to 
entertain  a  smartly  dressed  and  citified  young  man 
was  a  decidedly  new  experience.  Albert  saw  her  em 
barrassment,  and  with  true  gallantry  at  once  set  about 
making  her  feel  at  ease. 

"  Please  do  not  feel  that  you  must  try  to  entertain 
me,  Miss  Terry,"  he  said,  "  only  show  me  your  pict 
ures  and  tell  me  about  them." 

"  I  am  almost  ashamed  to,"  she  replied  timidly ; 
"  I  have  never  taken  any  lessons  and  feel  that  I  do 
not  know  anything  about  painting.  Father  says  you 
are  an  artist  yourself." 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss  Terry,"  exclaimed  Albert  quickly, 
"  he  misunderstood  me.  I  only  sketch  a  little  and 
once  in  a  while  make  an  effort  to  put  a  sketch  that 
is  of  interest  on  canvas.  All  I  can  tell  is  when  one 
looks  lifelike ;  for  instance,"  -  -  pointing  to  it,  —  "  that 


182  UNCLE   TERRY 

shipwreck  scene.  It  is  wonderfully  well  done.  Did 
you  paint  it  from  a  real  wreck  ?  " 

Telly  colored.  "  No,  sir,"  she  answered,  "  that  was 
all  done  from  father's  description  of  a  wreck  that 
took  place  off  the  point  one  winter  when  I  was  a 
baby."  Then,  as  if  to  check  further  questions,  she 
stepped  to  a  closet,  brought  him  a  small  unframed 
picture,  and  added,  "  There  is  one  I  have  just  finished." 

It  was  a  view  of  a  tall  cliff  with  a  low  shelf  of  rock 
at  its  base,  over  which  the  waves  were  breaking. 
Albert  recognized  it  at  once.  "Why,  that  is  the 
very  point,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  I  was  sketching 
yesterday  when  my  boat  drifted  away.  Did  you 
paint  it  from  a  broad  flat  rock  on  the  west  side  of  the 
cove?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  is  the  spot,"  replied  Telly,  looking 
pleased.  "  It  is  shady  there,  and  I  used  to  row  up 
and  paint  in  the  afternoon.  It  is  strange  you  went 
to  the  same  place." 

The  ice  was  broken  now,  and  Telly's  shyness  was 
almost  gone. 

"  Father  told  me  about  finding  you,"  she  said,  "  and 
that  you  were  turned  around.  You  must  have  had  a 
hard  tramp,  for  it's  all  of  two  miles  from  where  you 
were  to  this  cove,  and  an  awful  tangle  all  the  way, 
he  said." 


UNCLE  TERRY'S  GUEST  183 

"I  was  decidedly  turned  when  lie  came  to  my 
rescue,"  Albert  replied,  "  and  the  sun  seemed  to  be 
setting  in  the  east.  It  was  very  kind  of  your  father 
to  take  care  of  me  the  way  he  has,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  it." 

It  is  not  hard  for  two  young  people  of  opposite  sex 
to  get  acquainted  when  each  desires  to  entertain  the 
other  and  they  have  at  least  one  well-defined  taste 
in  common.  In  this  case  when  the  masculine  one 
felt  a  sudden  admiration  for  his  companion  and 
brought  all  his  resource  of  tact  and  subtle  flattery  to 
bear,  they  were  soon  011  the  very  best  of  terms. 
Albert  did  not  talk  much,  but  adroitly  induced  Telly 
to  do  most  of  it.  In  the  hour  they  passed  together 
he  discovered  that  two  impulses  were  nearest  her 
heart  —  the  first  and  strongest  her  devotion  to  Mr. 
Terry,  and  after  that  a  desire  to  paint. 

"  I  do  not  ever  hope  to  do  much,"  she  admitted  rather 
pathetically  ;  "  I  never  have  taken  lessons  and  maybe 
never  shall.  I  would  not  think  of  asking  father  to 
let  me  go  away,  and  all  I  can  do  is  to  work  blindly. 
I  often  sit  for  hours  trying  to  put  things  I  see  on 
canvas,  only  to  fail  utterly  and  begin  all  over  again. 
I  should  not  mind  it  if  I  could  see  that  I  made  any 
progress,  but  I  do  not.  I  can't  let  it  alone,  though,  for 
the  most  happy  hours  I  have  are  when  I'm  painting/' 


184 


UNCLE   TERRY 


"  You  certainly  have  perseverance,"  responded 
Albert  encouragingly,  "  and  the  pictures  you  have 
shown  me  seem  very  life-like.  I  wish  I  could  do  as 
well.  You  have  done  good  work  for  one  self-taught 
as  you  are,  and  you  have  no  reason  to  be  discour 
aged." 

Then  Uncle  Teriy  came  in  and  announced  dinner. 
It  was  rather  a  state  affair  for  the  Terry  household, 
and  the  table  bore  their  best  dinner  service,  with  a 
vase  of  flowers  in  the  centre. 

"  I  hope  ye  feel  hungry,"  said  Uncle  Terry,  as  he 
passed  a  well-filled  plate  to  Albert,  "  for  we  live  plain, 
and  it's  good  appetite  as  makes  good  vittles.  I  s'pose 
ye  are  used  ter  purty  high  livin'  ?  " 

"  Whatever  tastes  good  is  good,"  replied  Albert, 
and  turning  to  Aunt  Lissy  he  added,  "  This  fried 
lobster  beats  anything  I  have  tasted  for  a  long  time." 

When  the  meal  was  over  he  handed  the  box  of 
cigars  he  had  brought  to  his  host  with  the  remark, 
"  Please  accept  these,  Mr.  Terry,  and  when  you  smoke 
them,  think  of  the  forlorn  fellow  you  found  by  the 
wayside." 

"  I've  got  ter  leave  ye  ter  th'  tender  marcies  o'  the 
wimmin  folks,"  said  Uncle  Terry,  after  thanking 
Albert,  "  for  I've  got  work  to  do,  and  to-night  we'll 
have  a  visit.  I  hope  you'll  be  williii'  to  stay  with  us 


UNCLE  TERRY'S  GUEST  185 

a  day  or  two,"  he  added,  "  an'  to-morrow  I'll  take  ye 
out  fishin'." 

"  I  will  stay  until  to-morrow,  thank  you,"  replied 
Albert,  "  and  it  will  be  a  treat  to  me,  I  assure  you." 

It  was  a  new  departure  for  him  to  find  so  cordial  a 
welcome  among  total  strangers,  and  he  could  not 
quite  understand  it.  He  was  not  inclined  to  quarrel 
with  fate,  however,  especially  when  it  had  thrown 
him  into  the  society  of  such  people.  It  is  needless 
to  say  the  "  tender  marcies  "of  at  least  one  of  them 
were  quite  to  his  taste. 

"  I  should  like  to  row  up  to  where  I  was  left  boat- 
less  yesterday,"  he  said  to  Telly  after  Uncle  Terry 
had  gone,  "  and  finish  the  sketch  I  began,  and  also 
try  to  find  the  cushions  I  dropped  in  the  woods ;  may 
I  ask  you  to  go  too  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  if  mother  can  spare  me,"  she 
answered. 

When  he  rowed  out  of  the  little  harbor  where  he 
had  left  his  boat,  Telly  sat  in  the  stern  holding  the 
tiller  ropes,  and  shading  her  winsome  face  was  the 
same  broad  sun-hat  he  had  seen  on  the  rock  beside 
her  the  evening  before.  It  was  a  long  four-mile  pull, 
but  he  was  unconscious  of  it,  and  when  he  helped  his 
companion  out  and  secured  the  boat  he  said,  "  Now  I 
am  going  to  ask  a  fa^or  of  you,  Miss  Terry.  I  want 


186  UNCLE   TEBEY 

you  to  stand  in  just  the  position  I  first  saw  you  and 
let  me  make  a  sketch  of  you.  You  were  leaning  on 
a  rock  and  resting  your  head  on  one  hand." 

Telly  looked  puzzled. 

"  You  did  not  know  I  saw  you  out  on  the  point  last 
evening,  did  you  ?  "  he  added,  smiling.  "  I  stood  and 
looked  at  you  for  five  minutes  and  then  walked  away. 
I  did  not  know  who  you  were  then,  or  that  I  should 
meet  you  later.  If  I  had  I  would  not  have  been  so 
rude." 

The  color  came  to  Telly's  face  at  his  evident  ad 
miration,  but  she  did  not  say  no  to  his  proposal  and 
stood  patiently  in  the  position  he  wished  while  he 
made  the  sketch.  u  There,"  he  exclaimed  when  it 
was  finished,  "  I  shall  transfer  that  to  canvas  when  I 
go  back,  and  whenever  I  look  at  it  I  shall  recall  this 
day  and  —  you." 

"  Will  you  need  the  picture  for  that  ?  "  she  replied 
with  a  smile.  It  was  the  first  little  coquettish  word 
she  had  uttered,  and  it  amused  Albert.  "  That 
sounds  like  Alice,"  he  said,  and  added  hastily, 
"  Alice  is  my  only  sister,  and  I  think  more  of  her 
than  of  any  other  woman  living." 

What  these  two  young  people,  so  rapidly  becoming 
acquainted,  had  to  say  all  that  ]ong  summer  afternoon 
need  not  be  recorded.  Telly  sat  on  the  boat's 


187 

cushions  in  a  shady  nook  and  watched  Albert  finish 
his  sketch  and  then  listened  to  his  talk.  He  told  her 
all  about  his  home  and  sister,  and  Frank  as  well.  In 
a  way  they  exchanged  a  good  deal  of  personal  history 
of  interest  to  each  other,  but  to  no  one  else,  so  it 
need  not  be  repeated.  Then  they  gathered  flowers, 
like  two  children,  and  Telly  insisted  on  decorating 
the  boat.  When  it  was  done  she  wanted  him  to  make 
a  sketch  of  it  for  her.  "Draw  yourself  as  holding 
the  oars,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  try  to  paint  a  picture 
from  the  sketch  to  remember  you  by,"  she  added  with 
a  smile.  Then,  as  the  sun  was  getting  low,  they 
started  for  home.  The  breeze  had  all  vanished  and 
the  sea  was  like  glass.  Only  the  long  ground  swells 
barely  lifted  their  boat  and  made  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  along  the  shore  wave  in  fantastic  undulations. 
When  they  reached  the  Cape  Telly  said,  "  You  had 
better  go  around  to  the  cove  where  father  keeps  his 
boats.  It's  nearer  to  the  house,  and  there  is  a  float 
there  where  you  can  pull  your  boat  out." 

She  waited  until  he  had  done  so,  and  then  stooped 
and  selected  a  few  of  the  flowers  with  which  they  had 
decked  the  boat.  "  I  am  going  to  paint  them,"  she 
said  quietly,  as  she  turned  and  followed  Albert  up  to 
the  house. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

A   STRANGE   STORY 

UNCLE  TERRY  and  Albert  had  just  seated  them 
selves  on  the  point  that  evening  when  Telly  came  out 
with  a  thick  gray  shawl  and  wrapped  it  around  her 
father's  shoulders.  "  It's  a  little  chilly  to-night,"  she 
said,  "and  I  think  you  need  it."  Then  turning  to 
Albert  she  added,  "Wouldn't  you  like  one  too,  Mr. 
Page  ?  "  He  didn't  in  the  least  need  any  protection, 
but  that  made  no  difference.  "  I  would,  thank  you," 
he  answered,  "if  you  have  another  to  spare."  He 
would  have  answered  yes  if  she  had  asked  him  to  put 
on  woollen  mittens.  She  returned  to  the  house  and 
came  back,  this  time  bearing  a  white  zephyr  wrap, 
and  handed  it  to  Albert.  "  I  will  bid  you  good-night, 
now,"  she  said,  "  for  I  presume  you  will  sit  here  long 
after  bedtime." 

Uncle  Terry's  eyes  followed  her  back  to  the  house, 
and  then  he  turned  to  his  guest. 

"  I  s'pose  ye'd  rather  be  talking  to  Telly  than  me, 
out  here  in  the  moonlight,"  he  said  bluntly,  "now 


A   STRANGE   STORY  189 

that  ye've  got  a  little  acquainted.  It's  the  way  o' 
young  folks." 

"  I've  had  a  very  pleasant  visit  with  your  daughter 
this  afternoon,"  responded  Albert;  "she  was  good 
enough  to  go  with  me  to  where  I  got  left  yesterday. 
I  wanted  to  finish  the  sketch  I  began  there."  Uncle 
Terry  made  no  answer,  but  sat  puffing  away  at  one 
of  the  cigars  Albert  had  given  him. 

"  We  don't  git  cigars  like  this  here,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  an'  they  must  cost  a  lot  o'  money."  Albert  made 
no  reply,  but  waited  quietly  for  the  revelation  he  felt 
was  coming. 

"  Mr.  Page,"  said  Uncle  Terry  at  last,  "  I've  wor 
ried  a  good  deal  since  last  night  'bout  what  you  told 
me,  an'  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  tell  ye  the  hull 
story  an'  trust  ye  with  what  no  one  else  knows.  To 
begin  with,  it's  'bout  twenty  years  ago  last  March 
when  thar  war  a  vessel  got  a-foul  o'  a  ledge  jest  off'n 
the  pint  here  in  a  snow-storm,  an'  all  hands  went 
down ;  that  is,  all  but  a  little  yearlin'  baby  that  cum 
ashore  tied  up  'tween  two  feather-beds.  I  fished  her 
out  o'  the  surf,  an'  Lissy  an'  me  has  taken  care  on 
her  ever  since,  an'  to-day  she's  worth  a  thousand  times 
more'n  she  cost.  How  much  she  thinks  o'  me  I'll  let 
ye  jedge  by  the  way  she  thought  'bout  my  comfort 
to-night.  There  was  a  few  trinkets  came  ashore  with 


190  UNCLE   TEREY 

her  —  picturs  o'  her  father  an'  mother,  we  knew,  an' 
a  locket  an'  ring  and  some  other  things,  so  we  knowed 
her  name  and  whar  she  cum  from.  Since  then  we 
have  never  heard  a  word  from  no  one  regardin'  her 
people,  or  whether  any  was  livin',  till  last  winter  I 
cum  across  a  notice  in  a  paper  sayin'  information  was 
wanted  'bout  an  heir  to  an  estate  in  Sweden,  and 
tellin'  facts  that  made  me  sure  Telly  was  the  one 
wanted.  The  notice  was  signed  by  that  lawyer, 
Frye,  that  I  asked  ye  'bout,  an'  I  went  to  see  him. 
He  wanted  proofs  an'  all  that,  an'  I  gave  'em  to  him, 
an'  wussen  that,  he  wanted  money,  an'  I  gave  that 
to  him.  He's  kept  askin'  fer  money  ever  since,  an' 
I,  like  a  dum  fool,  kept  sendin'  it,  in  hopes,  if  Telly 
had  anything  comin',  she'd  git  her  dues.  I've  sent 
him  the  locket  and  things  that  belonged  to  her,  and 
all  I've  got  so  far  is  letters  askin'  for  more  money 
an'  tellin'  'bout  expenses  an'  evidence  an'  witnesses' 
fees  an'  bonds  to  be  filed.  Lissy  an'  Telly  know 
'bout  the  case,  but  they  don't  know  how  much  money 
I've  paid  out,  an'  I  don't  want  they  should.  That's 
the  hull  story,  an'  now  as  you're  a  lawyer,  an'  I 
b'lieve  an  honest  one,  I  ask  ye  what's  best  to  be 
done." 

For  fully  five  minutes  Albert  said  nothing.     The 
story  was  so  startling  and  opened  such  a  wide  horizon 


A    STRANGE   STORY  191 

of  possibilities  that  he  was  speechless.  Then,  perhaps, 
the  distress  in  Uncle  Terry's  face  and  speech  appealed 
to  him,  for  he  said :  "  I  see  now,  Mr.  Terry,  why  you 
distrust  lawyers,  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  it.  To  the 
best  of  my  belief  you  have  been  swindled  in  the  most 
outrageous  manner  by  Frye.  He  no  doubt  is  acting 
for  some  law  firm  who  have  instructed  him  to  find  an 
heir,  if  there  is  one,  to  this  estate,  and  they  would 
naturally  advance  all  expense  money.  Do  you  know 
the  vessel's  name,  where  she  sailed  from,  and  who  her 
master  was  ?  " 

"She  was  a  square-rigger,  and  the  master's  name 
was  Peterson ;  in  the  newspaper  piece  the  name  was 
Neils  Peterson  who  cum  from  Stockholm,"  answered 
Uncle  Terry.  "  I've  got  it  in  my  wallet  now,  an'  on 
the  locket  was  the  letters  E.  P.,  an'  on  a  piece  o' 
paper  that  was  pinned  to  the  baby's  dress  was  the 
name  Etelka  Peterson." 

"And  did  you  send  these  proofs  to  Frye?"  asked 
Albert  quickly. 

"  I  sent  'em  six  months  ago,"  was  the  reply,  "  an' 
I've  jest  'bout  made  up  my  mind  I  was  a  fool  to  'a' 
done  it,  an'  a  bigger  one  to  keep  sendin'  money." 

"  It  would  have  been  all  right,"  answered  Albert 
after  a  pause,  "  if  you  had  put  them  into  an  honest 
man's  hands.  As  it  is  you  are  lame  —  in  fact,  utterly 


192  UNCLE  TERRY 

at  the  mercy  of  Frye,  who  is  robbing  you."  Then 
after  thinking  a  moment  he  added,  "  I  will  gladly  do 
what  I  can  to  help  you,  Mr.  Terry,  and  at  no  cost  to 
you  for  my  own  services.  The  first  step  must  be  to 
get  possession  of  these  material  proofs,  the  next  to 
find  what  firm  has  employed  Frye.  That  will  be 
easier  than  to  get  the  trinkets,  as  you  call  them,  back. 
We  might  issue  a  writ  of  replevin  and  search  Frye's 
office,  but  then  we  are  not  sure  of  finding  them. 
They  are  so  valuable  in  the  case  that  you  may  be 
sure  Frye  has  them  safe  in  hiding  and  will  deny  pos 
session.  Even  if  we  find  who  employ  him  and  lay 
the  matter  before  them,  he  will  declare  us  impostors 
and  block  us  at  once.  As  I  said,  we  are  helpless  un 
til  we  get  possession  of  those  proofs." 

"  Ain't  my  word  an'  Lissy's  as  to  savin'  the  baby 
no  'count?"  asked  Uncle  Terry. 

"Very  good  so  far  as  it  goes,"  answered  Albert, 
"  but  really  no  proof  that  the  child  you  saved  is  the 
one  wanted  for  this  inheritance.  In  the  matter  of  a 
legacy  the  law  is  very  exacting  and  demands  absolute 
proof.  No,  the  only  way  is  to  use  duplicity  and  trick 
Frye,  or  ask  him  to  name  his  price  and  pay  it,  and  as 
the  estate  may  be  large,  his  price  will  naturally  be 
extortionate." 

Albert  thought  a  moment  and  then  added,  "  Has 


A   STRANGE   STORY  193 

Frye  ever  written  you  admitting  he  has  received  or 
has  those  proofs  in  his  possession?" 

"Not  a  word,"  answered  Uncle  Terry;  "all  he 
writes  is,  '  Your  case  is  progressing  favorably.  I  need 
so  much  more  money,'  an'  I  send  it  an'  lay  'wake 
nights  worryin'." 

"  How  long  since  he  has  sent  for  money  ?  "  asked 
Albert. 

"  'Bout  a  month,  I  reckon,"  replied  Uncle  Terry. 

Albert  leaned  forward,  resting  his  face  on  both 
hands  and  thinking.  It  was  a  hard  case  to  solve,  and 
knowing  the  manner  of  man  Frye  was,  and  how  nearly 
impossible  it  would  be  to  trick  him,  a  past  master 
in  all  kinds  of  duplicity,  he  was  at  his  wits'  end.  The 
more  he  thought  the  matter  over,  the  harder  the 
problem  seemed.  "We  might  have  you  go  into  his 
office  with  one  or  two  of  your  neighbors,"  he  said,  "  to 
act  as  witnesses,  and  by  some  question  get  him  to  ad 
mit  he  has  these  articles,  and  then  bring  suit ;  but  I 
do  not  think  he  would  say  anything  before  a  third 
party.  We  might  employ  a  detective,  but  Frye  is  too 
shrewd  to  be  caught  napping.  I  confess,  Mr.  Terry, 
I  am  stumped,  and  can  see  no  way  out  of  the  dilemma." 
Then  he  lighted  a  fresh  cigar  and  gazed  meditatively 
upon  the  ocean  where  the  ever-broadening  path  of 
moonshine  stretched  away.  Only  a  little  way  out 


194  UNCLE   TEKIIY 

the  ground  swells  were  breaking  upon  a  long  narrow 
reef,  and  as  it  caught  his  eye  there  came  to  him  the 
memory  of  the  pictured  wreck  he  had  noticed  in 
Uncle  Terry's  sitting-room  that  morning,  and  Telly's 
evident  wish  to  avoid  all  questions  regarding  it.  Then 
it  dawned  upon  him  that  that  subject  might  be  a  ten 
der  one  with  her,  and  maybe  that  in  some  way  she 
felt  her  history  was  a  cloud  upon  her  life,  or  perhaps 
a  humiliation.  He  turned  to  Uncle  Terry  again : 

u  How  does  your  —  I  mean,  how  does  Telly  feel 
about  this  matter,  Mr.  Terry,  for  I  suppose  she  knows 
the  story  ?  " 

"  That's  suthin'  I  hate  ter  talk  'bout,  but  as  yeY 
likely  to  see  more  o'  us  an'  more  o'  Telly,  it's  better 
ye  know  it  all.  When  she  was  'bout  ten  we  told  her 
the  story,  and  showed  her  the  things  we'd  kep'  locked 
up.  She  didn't  seem  ter  mind  it  then,  but  as  she's 
growed  older  it  sorter  shadders  her  life,  as  it  were. 
We  used  ter  ketch  her  lookin'  at  the  things  once  in  a 
while,  an'  cryin'.  When  I  sent  'em  to  Boston  she 
took  011  a  good  deal,  an'  ain't  been  the  same  sence. 
We  try  to  keep  her  from  thinkin'  'bout  it  all  we  can, 
but  she's  curis  in  her  ways,  and  I've  thought  she  was 
kinder  'shamed,  an'  mebbe  broodin'  over  it  makes  it 
wuss." 

This  was  a  new  phase  of  the  trouble  to  Albert,  and 


A  STRANGE   STORY  195 

one  he  could  not  quite  understand.  "  You  do  not 
mean  that  you  fear  she  would  make  away  with  herself 
in  a  fit  of  melancholy,  do  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  dunno  what  to  think,"  was  the  answer,  "  only  I 
hate  to  have  her  out  o'  sight  much,  an'  the  more  lovin' 
she  is  the  more  I  worry.  I've  bin  sorry  at  times  I 
ever  went  to  Frye,  but  it's  too  late  ter  back  out  now." 

"  One  thing  please  promise  me,"  said  Albert  when 
they  had  started  for  the  house,  "  do  not  hint  either  to 
her  or  your  wife  that  you  have  told  me  anything  about 
this  matter.  I  will  do  all  that  can  be  done,  and  con 
sult  only  with  you,  in  private." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   WHISPER    OF    THE    OCEAN 

THE  next  day  was  a  red-letter  one  in  Albert's 
history.  In  the  morning  he  followed  Uncle  Terry 
around  the  circuit  of  his  lobster  traps  in  the  "  Gypsy's  " 
boat,  with  Telly  as  a  companion,  and  watched  the  old 
man  hauling  and  rebaiting  those  elongated  coops  and 
taking  out  his  hideous  prizes.  The  day  was  a  perfect 
one,  the  sea  just  ruffled  by  a  light  breeze,  and  as  her 
first  timidity  had  now  worn  away,  he  found  Telly  a 
most  charming  companion.  She  not  only  loved  the 
ocean  that  in  a  way  had  been  her  playmate  since 
childhood,  but  she  had  an  artist's  eye  for  all  its 
beauties.  How  many  features,  new  to  Albert,  she 
called  to  his  attention,  and  how  her  nai've  observa 
tions,  so  fresh  and  delightful,  each  and  all  interested 
him,  need  not  be  quoted.  It  was  an  entirely  new 
experience  to  him,  and  the  four  hours'  pull  in  and  out 
of  the  island  coves  and  around  isolated  ledges  where 
Uncle  Terry  set  his  traps  passed  all  too  quickly. 

"  Do    you    know,"    said    Albert    when   they   had 


A    WHISPER   OF   THE   OCEAN  197 

returned  to  the  little  cove  where  Uncle  Terry  kept 
his  boats,  and  as  he  sat  watching  him  pick  up  his 
morning's  catch  and  toss  them  one  by  one  into  a  large 
car,  "that  the  first  man  who  thought  of  eating  a 
lobster  must  have  been  almost  starved.  Of  all  creat 
ures  that  grow  in  the  sea,  there  is  none  more  hide 
ous,  and  only  a  hungry  savage  could  have  thought 
them  fit  for  food." 

"They  ain't  over  hansum,"  replied  Uncle  Terry, 
"  but  fried  in  pork  fat  they  go  middlin'  good  if  ye're 
hungry." 

That  afternoon  Telly  invited  Albert  to  row  her  up 
to  a  cove,  at  the  head  of  which  was  a  narrow  valley 
where  blueberries  grew  in  profusion.  "I  want  to 
pick  a  few,"  she  said,  "  and  you  can  make  a  sketch  of 
the  cove  while  I  do."  It  must  be  recorded  that  help 
ing  her  picking  berries  proved  more  attractive,  and 
when  her  pail  was  full,  all  he  did  in  that  line  was  to 
make  a  picture  of  her  sitting  in  front  of  a  pretty 
cluster  of  small  spruce  trees,  with  the  pail  beside  her 
and  her  sun-hat  trimmed  with  ferns. 

"  Your  city  friends  will  laugh  at  the  country  girl 
you  found  down  in  Maine,"  she  remarked  as  she  looked 
at  the  sketch,  "  but  as  they  will  never  see  me,  I  don't 
care." 

"  My  friends  will  never  see  it,"  he  answered  quietly, 


198  UNCLE    TERRY 

"  only  my  sister.  And  I  am  going  to  bring  her  down 
here  next  summer." 

"  Tell  me  about  her,"  said  Telly  at  once,  "  is  she 
pretty?" 

"I  think  so,"  replied  Albert,  "she  has  eyes  like 
yours,  only  her  hair  is  not  so  light.  She  is  a  petite 
little  body  and  has  a  mouth  that  makes  one  want  to 
kiss  her." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  her  ever  so  much,"  responded 
Telly,  and  then  she  added  rather  sadly,  "  I've  never 
had  a  girl  friend  in  my  life.  There  are  only  a  few  at 
the  Cape  of  my  age,  and  I  don't  see  much  of  them. 
I  don't  mind  it  in  the  summer,  for  then  I  work  on  my 
pictures,  but  in  winter  it  is  so  lonesome.  For  days  I 
do  not  see  any  one  except  father  and  mother  or  old 
Mrs.  Leach." 

"  And  who  is  Mrs.  Leach?"  asked  Albert. 

"  Oh,  she's  a  poor  old  soul  who  lives  alone  and 
works  on  the  fish  racks,"  answered  Telly,  "she  is 
worse  off  than  I  am."  It  was  a  little  glimpse  into 
the  girl's  life  that  interested  Albert,  and  in  the  light 
of  what  he  knew  of  her  history,  a  pathetic  one.  Truly 
she  was  alone  in  the  world,  and  except  for  the  two 
kindly  souls  who  made  a  home  for  her,  she  had  no 
one  to  turn  to. 

"  You  will  go  away  to-morrow,  I  suppose,"  she  said 


A  WHISPER   OF   THE   OCEAN  199 

with  a  faint  tone  of  regret  as  they  were  rowing  home. 
"  Father  said  your  boat  was  coming  after  you  to 
day." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment,  while  a  slight  smile 
showed  beneath  his  mustache.  "  I  suppose  I  shall  have 
to,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  should  like  to  stay  here  a 
month.  I've  not  made  a  sketch  of  your  house,  even." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  she  said  with  charming  can 
dor,  "it  is  so  lonesome  here,  and  then  maybe  you 
would  show  me  a  little  about  painting." 

"  Could  you  endure  my  company  every  day  for  a 
month  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  her  full  in  the  face. 

"I  don't  believe  you  could  endure  ours,"  she  re 
plied,  dropping  her  eyes,  and  then  she  added  quickly, 
"  There  is  a  prayer-meeting  to-night  at  the  Cape ; 
would  you  like  to  go?" 

"  Most  certainly,"  he  answered ;  "  I  can  imagine  it 
will  be  interesting." 

Albert  had  expected  to  see  the  "  Gypsy  "  in  the 
harbor  when  they  returned  that  afternoon,  but  was 
most  happily  disappointed.  "  I  hope  they  will  stay 
at  Bar  Harbor  a  week,"  he  thought.  And  that  even 
ing  when  Telly  appeared,  ready  to  be  escorted  to  the 
prayer-meeting,  he  was  certain  that  no  fairer  girl  was 
to  be  found  at  Bar  Harbor,  or  anywhere  else. 

She  was  dressed  in   simple   white,  her  masses  of 


200  UNCLE   TEEKY 

sunny  hair  half  concealed  by  a  thin  blue  affair  of 
loosely  knitted  wool,  and  had  a  cluster  of  wild  roses 
at  her  throat.  It  was  a  new  and  pleasurable  expe 
rience  to  be  walking  beside  a  well-dressed  young  man 
whose  every  look  and  word  bespoke  enjoyment  of  her 
society,  and  she  showed  it  in  her  simple,  unaffected 
way.  "  I  am  afraid  we  shall  disturb  the  meeting," 
she  said  with  a  smile,  as  they  were  walking  over  to 
the  village.  "  The  folks  will  be  so  curious  to  know 
who  you  are  they  will  sing  worse  than  ever.  That's 
about  all  they  do,"  she  added  by  way  of  explanation, 
—  "  sing  a  few  hymns,  and  Deacon  Oaks  will  make  a 
prayer  and  Mr.  "Gates  another.  They  may  call  on 
you  to  give  testimony,"  she  continued,  looking  at 
Albert  archly  ;  "  will  you  respond  ?  " 

" Hardly,"  was  the  reply.  "I  always  respect 
people's  religious  feelings,  but  I  must  confess  I  belong 
to  the  great  majority  of  sinners  who  have  never  had 
a  change  of  heart." 

That  evening's  gathering  was  a  unique  one  in 
Albert's  experience,  and  the  religious  observances 
such  as  he  never  forgot.  The  place  was  a  little 
square,  unpainted  building,  not  larger  than  a  country 
schoolhouse,  and  when  Telly  and  he  entered  and 
seated  themselves  on  one  of  the  wooden  settees  that 
stood  in  rows,  not  over  a  dozen  people  were  there. 


A   WHISPER   OF   THE   OCEAN  201 

On  a  small  platform  in  front  was  a  cottage  organ,  and 
beside  it  a  small  desk.  A  few  more  entered  after 
they  did,  and  then  a  florid-faced  man  arose,  and, 
followed  by  a  short  and  stout  young  lady,  walked 
forward  to  the  platform.  The  girl  seated  herself 
at  the  organ,  and  the  man,  after  turning  up  the 
lamp  on  the  organ,  opened  the  book  of  gospel 
hymns,  and  said  in  a  nasal  tone,  "  We  will  naow 
commence  our  sarvices  by  singin'  the  forty-third 
psalm,  and  all  are  requested  to  rise  an'  jine."  In  the 
centre  of  the  room  hung  a  large  lamp,  and  two  more 
on  brackets  at  the  side  shed  a  weak  light  on  the 
gathering,  but  no  one  seemed  to  feel  it  necessary  to 
look  for  the  forty-third  selection.  Albert  and  Telly 
arose  with  the  rest,  and  the  girl  at  the  organ  began 
to  chase  the  slow  tune  up  and  down  the  keys.  Then 
the  red-faced  man  started  the  singing,  a  little  below 
the  key,  and  the  congregation  followed.  To  Albert's 
surprise,  Telly's  voice,  clear  and  distinct,  at  his  side 
joined  with  the  rest.  A  long  prayer,  full  of  halting 
repetitions,  by  the  man  at  the  desk,  followed,  and  then 
another  hymn,  and  after  that  came  a  painful  pause.  To 
Albert's  mind  it  was  becoming  serious,  and  he  began 
to  wonder  how  it  would  end,  when  there  ensued  one 
of  the  most  weird  and  yet  pathetic  prayers  he  had 
ever  listened  to.  It  was  uttered  by  an  old  lady,  tall, 


202  UNCLE  TERRY 

gaunt,  and  white-haired,  who  arose  from  the  end  of  a 
settee  close  to  the  wall  and  beneath  one  of  the  smoke- 
dimmed  lamps.  It  could  not  be  classed  as  a  prayer 
exactly,  for  when  she  began  her  utterance  she  looked 
around  as  if  to  find  sympathy  in  the  assembled  faces, 
and  her  deep-set  piercing  eyes  seemed  alight  with 
intense  feeling.  At  first  she  grasped  the  back  of  the 
settee  in  front  with  her  long  fleshless  fingers,  and  then 
later  clasped  and  finally  raised  them  above  her  upturned 
face,  while  her  body  swayed  with  the  vehemence 
of  her  feelings.  Her  garb,  too,  lent  a  pathos,  for  it 
was  naught  but  a  faded  calico  dress  that  hung  from 
her  attenuated  frame  like  the  raiment  of  a  scarecrow. 
It  may  have  been  the  shadowy  room  or  the  mournful 
dirge  of  the  near-by  ocean  that  added  an  uncanny 
touch  to  her  words  and  looks,  but  from  the  moment 
she  arose  until  her  utterance  ceased,  Albert  was  spell 
bound.  So  peculiar,  and  yet  so  pathetic,  was  her 
prayer,  it  shall  be  quoted  in  full  as  uttered : 

"  O  Lord,"  she  said,  "  I  come  to  Thee,  knowin' 
I'm  as  a  worm  that  crawls  on  the  airth  ;  like  the  dust 
blown  by  the  winds ;  the  empty  shell  on  the  shore, 
or  the  leaves  that  fall  on  the  ground.  I  come  poor 
an'  humble.  I  come  hungry  and  thirsty,  like  even 
the  lowliest  of  the  airth.  I  come  and  kneel  at  Thy 
feet  —  believin'  that  I,  a  poor  worm  o'  the  dust,  will 


A   WHISPER   OF   THE   OCEAN  203 

still  have  Thy  love  and  pertection.  I'm  old,  an' 
weary  o'  waitin'.  I'm  humble,  and  bereft  o'  kin. 
I'm  sad,  and  none  to  comfort  me.  I  eat  the  crust  o' 
poverty,  an'  drink  the  cup  of  humility.  My  pertector 
and  my  staff  have  bin  taken  from  me,  and  yet,  for 
all  these  burdens  Thou  in  Thy  infinite  wisdom  hev 
seen  fit  to  lay  on  me,  I  thank  Thee  !  Thou  hast  led 
my  feet  among  thorns  and  stuns,  and  yet  I  thank 
Thee.  Thou  hast  laid  the  cross  o'  sorrow  on  my 
heart,  and  the  burden  o'  many  infirmities  for  me  to 
bear,  and  yet  I  bless  Thee,  yea,  verily  shall  my  voice 
be  lifted  to  glorify  and  praise  Thee  day  and  night, 
for  hast  Thou  not  promised  me  that  all  who  are  be 
lievers  in  Thy  word  shall  be  saved?  Hast  Thou  not 
sent  Thy  son  to  die  on  the  cross  for  my  sake,  poor 
and  humble  as  I  am?  An'  fer  this,  an'  fer  all  Thy 
infinite  marcy  an'  goodness  to  me,  I  praise  an'  thank 
Thee  to-night,  knowin'  that  not  a  sparrer  falls  without 
Thy  knowin'  it,  and  that  even  the  hairs  of  our  heads 
are  numbered. 

"  I  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  for  the  sunshine  every  day, 
and  the  comin'  o'  the  birds  and  flowers  every  season. 
I  thank  Thee  that  my  eyes  are  still  permitted  to  see 
Thy  beautiful  world,  and  my  ears  to  hear  the  songs  o' 
praise.  I  thank  Thee,  too,  that  with  my  voice  I  can 
glorify  and  bless  Thee  fer  all  Thy  goodness,  and  fer 


204  UNCLE   TERRY 

all  Thy  marcy.  An'  when  the  day  of  judgment  comes 
an'  the  dead  rise  up  then  I  know  Thou  wilt  keep  Thy 
promise,  an'  that  even  I,  poor  an'  humble,  shall  live 
again,  jinin'  those  that  have  gone  before,  to  sit  at  Thy 
feet  an'  glorify  Thee  for  life  everlastin'.  Fer  this 
blessed  hope,  an'  fer  all  Thy  other  promises,  I  lift 
my  voice  in  gratitude  an'  thankfulness  an'  praise  to 
Thee,  my  heavenly  Father,  an'  to  thy  son,  my  Re 
deemer,  to-iiight  an'  to-morrer  an'  forever  an'  forever. 
Amen." 

To  Albert,  a  student  of  Voltaire,  of  Hume,  of  Paine, 
and  an  admirer  of  Ingersoll,  a  doubter  of  scriptural 
authenticity,  and  almost  a  materialist  in  belief,  this 
weird  and  piteous  utterance  came  with  peculiar  effect. 
That  she  who  uttered  it  had  only  told  the  tale  of  her 
own  sad  life  and  hope  he  understood  at  once,  and 
what  was  of  more  force,  that  she  believed  and  felt  in 
her  own  heart  that  every  word  of  her  recital  was  heard 
by  her  Creator.  Albert  had  heard  prayers  and  relig 
ious  exhortations  without  number ;  prayers  that  were 
incoherent,  pointless,  vague,  or  uttered  to  the  hearers 
instead  of  God ;  prayers  that  contained  advice  to  the 
Deity  galore,  but  of  supplication  and  thankfulness 
not  a  vestige ;  but  never  before  one  that  reached  his 
heart  and  touched  his  feelings  as  the  strange  and  pit 
eous  supplication  uttered  by  this  weird  old  lady  there 


A   WHISPER   OF  THE   OCEAN  205 

in  the  dimly-lighted  room  with  the  sad  and  solemn 
dirge  of  the  ocean  whispering  through  the  open  win 
dows. 

The  rest  of  the  services  were  of  little  interest  to 
him,  except  the  fact  that  Telly's  voice  at  his  side, 
now  a  little  bolder  than  at  first,  led  the  gospel  hymns 
that  followed.  Old  and  time-worn  they  were,  and 
yet  rendered  with  a  zest  of  feeling  reflected,  maybe, 
from  the  plaintive  prayer  of  this  old  lady. 

Our  moods,  and  more  especially  our  thoughts,  are 
often  turned  from  one  groove  into  another  by  some 
single  word  or  reference  that,  like  a  little  rudder  at 
the  stern  of  a  great  ship,  seems  of  no  account.  To 
Albert,  who  for  a  year  had  had  no  thought  except 
to  win  success  amid  the  hard,  selfish  scramble  of  life 
in  a  busy  city,  this  episode,  and  more  especially  the 
utter  self-abnegation  and  piteous  appeal  of  this  poor, 
ill-clad,  and  gaunt-faced  old  lady,  was  the  tiny  rudder 
that  changed  his  thoughts  and  carried  him  back  to 
the  many  times  when  he,  a  boy,  exuberant  in  spirit, 
was  made  to  kneel  each  night  at  bed-time  and  listen 
to  a  loving  mother's  prayer.  Then,  too,  the  mem 
ory  of  that  mother's  face,  and  even  the  very  tones 
of  her  voice  as  she  prayed  that  God  would  guide  her 
boy's  footsteps  aright,  came  back  to  him  now,  and  into 
the  remembrance  too  was  woven  all  of  that  mother's 


206  UNCLE   TERRY 

kind  and  patient  acts ;  all  her  earnest  and  good  advice ; 
all  her  self-denials ;  all  the  pinchings  and  small  econ 
omies  she  had  endured  to  enable  him  to  receive  an 
education,  and  as  each  and  all  came  trooping  back 
like  so  many  little  hands  tugging  at  his  heart-strings 
and  moistening  his  eyes,  he  realized  that  there  was 
needed  in  this  hurrying,  selfish  life  of  ours  some 
thing  deeper,  and  something  beyond  the  skepticism 
of  Voltaire  and  the  materialism  of  Ingersoll.  And 
there  in  that  dim  little  room,  with  two  dozen  poorly 
clad  and  simple  fisher-folk  singing  gospel  hymns  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  wheezy  cottage  organ,  he 
realized  that  while  atheism  and  doubt  might  appeal 
to  his  intellect,  it  did  not  satisfy  his  heart,  and  that 
while  materialism  might  be  a  good  enough  theory  to 
live  by,  it  was  a  cheerless  belief  to  die  by. 

And  then  too,  as  he  stole  covert  looks  at  the  fair 
girl  who  stood  by  his  side,  joining  her  sweet  voice  in 
"  Hold  the  Fort,"  "  Pull  for  the  Shore,"  "  Gathering 
at  the  River,"  and  all  the  other  time-worn  gospel 
songs,  older  than  he  was,  into  his  heart  came  the  first 
feeling,  also,  that  she  was  the  one  woman  he  had  ever 
met  whose  gentle,  unaffected  goodness  and  purity  of 
thought  was  worthy  of  any  man's  devotion.  But 
words  are  given  us  to  conceal  as  well  as  to  reveal  our 
feelings,  and  when  the  unique  little  prayer-meeting 


A   WHISPER   OF   THE   OCEAN  207 

was  concluded  with  an  oddly  spoken  benediction  by 
Deacon  Oaks,  and  Albert  and  Telly  were  on  their 
way  back  to  the  point,  his  first  words  bore  no  dis 
closure  of  his  feelings. 

"Who  was  the  poor  old  lady  that  prayed  so  fer 
vently  ?  "  he  asked ;  "  I  have  never  heard  anything  like 
it  since  I  was  a  boy." 

"  Oh,  that's  the  Widow  Leach,"  Telly  responded ; 
"  she  always  acts  that  way  and  feels  so  too,  I  guess. 
She  is  an  object  of  pity  here,  and  very  poor.  She  has 
no  relation  living  that  she  knows  of,  lives  alone  in  a 
small  house  she  owns,  and  works  on  the  fish  racks 
summers,  and  winters  has  to  be  helped.  Her  husband 
and  two  sons  were  lost  at  sea  many  years  ago,  and 
father  says  religion  is  all  the  consolation  she  has  left." 

"  Does  she  always  pray  as  fervently  as  she  did  to 
night  ?  "  was  Albert's  next  query. 

w  Oh,  yes,  that's  her  way,"  was  the  answer;  "father 
says  she  is  a  little  cracked  about  such  matters.  He 
pities  her,  though,  and  helps  her  a  good  deal,  and  so 
does  'most  every  one  else  here  who  can.  She  needs  it." 
Then  after  a  pause  she  added,  "  How  did  you  enjoy 
the  meeting,  Mr.  Page?" 

"Well,"  replied  Albert  slowly,  and  mentally  con 
trasting  it  with  many  Sunday  services  when  he  had 
occupied  a  pew  with  the  Nasons  at  their  fashionable 


208  UNCLE   TERRY 

church  in  Boston,  "  it  has  been  an  experience  I  shall 
not  soon  forget.  In  one  way  it  has  been  a  pleasure, 
for  it  has  taken  me  back  to  my  young  days."  Then 
he  added  a  little  sadly,  "  It  has  also  been  a  pain,  for 
it  recalled  my  mother  and  how  she  used  to  pray  that 
I  might  grow  to  be  a  good  man." 

"  You  are  not  a  bad  man,  are  you  ? "  responded 
Telly  at  once,  looking  curiously  at  him. 

"  Oh,  no;  I  hope  not,"  he  answered,  smiling,  "  I  try 
to  do  as  I  would  be  done  by,  but  the  good  people  here 
might  think  I  was,  maybe,  because  I  am  not  a  pro 
fessor  of  religion.  For  that  reason  I  should  be  classed 
as  one  of  the  sinners,  I  presume." 

"Well,  so  is  father,"  responded  Telly,  "but  that 
doesn't  make  him  one.  Deacon  Oaks  calls  him  a 
scoffer,  but  I  know  he  trusts  him  in  all  money 
matters,  and  I  think  father  is  the  best  and  kindest 
man  in  the  world.  He  has  been  so  good  and  kind 
to  me  I  would  almost  lie  down  and  die  for  him,  if 
necessary." 

It  was  an  expression  of  feeling  that  was  not  sur 
prising  to  Albert,  knowing  as  he  did  her  history,  but  he 
felt  it  unwise  to  discuss  it.  "  How  do  you  feel  about 
this  matter  of  belief?"  he  asked  after  a  pause.  "Are 
you  what  this  old  lady  would  call  a  believer,  Miss 
Terry?" 


A   WHISPER   OF   THE   OCEAN  209 

"  Oh,  no,  "  she  replied  slowly,  "  I  fear  I  am  not. 
I  always  go  to  meeting  Sundays  when  there  is  one,  — 
mother  and  I,  —  and  once  in  a  while  to  the  Thursday 
evening  prayer-meeting.  I  think  it's  because  I  enjoy 
the  singing." 

When  they  reached  the  point  Albert  could  not 
restrain  his  desire  to  enjoy  the  society  of  this  un 
affected,  simple,  and  beautiful  girl  a  little  longer. 
The  moon  that  Frank  had  planned  to  use  was  high 
overhead,  and  away  out  over  the  still  ocean  stretched 
a  broadening  path  of  silvery  sheen,  while  at  their 
feet,  where  the  ground  swells  were  breaking  upon 
the  rocks,  every  splash  of  foam  looked  like  snow- 
white  wool. 

"  If  it's  not  asking  too  much,  Miss  Terry,"  said 
Albert  with  utmost  politeness,  "  won't  you  walk  out 
to  the  top  of  the  cliff  and  sit  down  a  few  moments, 
while  I  enjoy  a  cigar?  The  night  is  too  beautiful  to 
turn  away  from  at  once." 

Telly,  nothing  loath  perhaps,  assented,  and  they 
took  possession  of  the  rustic  seat  where  Albert  had 
listened  to  her  history  the  night  before.  Perhaps  a 
little  of  its  pathos  came  to  him  now  as  he  watched 
her  sweet  face  while  she  gazed  far  out  to  seaward  and 
to  where  the  swells  were  breaking  over  a  low,  half- 
submerged  ledge.  And  what  a  flood  of  new  and 


210  UNCLE   TERBY 

bewitching  emotions  came  to  him  as  he  watched  his 
fair  companion,  all  unconscious  of  his  scrutiny !  —  and 
with  them,  a  sudden  and  keen  interest  to  unravel  the 
mystery  of  her  parentage,  and  the  hope  that  some  time 
he  might  do  it.  He  also  felt  an  unaccountable  desire 
to  tell  her  that  he  knew  her  pathetic  story,  and  to 
express  his  interest  in  it  and  his  sympathy  for  her,  but 
dared  not.  "  It  may  hurt  her  to  know  I  know  it," 
he  thought,  "  and  I  will  wait  till  she  knows  me  bet 
ter."  Instead  he  began  telling  her  about  himself  and 
his  own  early  life,  his  home,  his  loss  of  parents,  his 
struggle  to  earn  a  living,  and  how  much  success  he 
had  so  far  met.  It  may  be  considered  egotism,  but  it 
was  the  wisest  thing  he  could  have  done,  for  it 
awakened  her  interest  in  him  far  more  than  he 
realized.  When  his  recital  and  cigar  were  both  at  an 
end  and  it  was  time  to  go  in,  he  said :  "  I  may  not 
have  another  chance  to  ask  you,  Miss  Terry,  before 
I  leave  here ;  but  when  I  get  back  to  Boston  may 
I  write  to  you,  and  will  you  answer  my  letters  if  I 
do?" 

The  question  startled  her  a  little,  but  she  an 
swered  : 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  hear  from  you,  Mr.  Page, 
and  will  do  the  best  I  can  in  replying,  only  do  not 
expect  too  much." 


A  WHISPER   OF    THE   OCEAN  211 

When  he  had  bade  her  good  night  and  was  alone  in 
his  room,  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Leach  and  her  pitiful 
prayer,  coupled  with  Telly's  pleading  eyes  and  sweet 
face,  banished  all  thoughts  of  sleep,  and  he  had  to 
light  another  cigar  and  watch  the  moonlit  ocean  for  a 
half  hour  while  he  smoked  and  meditated. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

THE  "GYPSY"  RETURNS 

"How  did  ye  like  the  prayer-meetin'  ? "  asked 
Uncle  Terry  the  next  morning,  as  Albert  stood 
watching  him  getting  ready  to  start  on  his  daily 
rounds.  "  Did  the  Widder  Leach  make  ye  feel  ye 
was  a  hopeless  sinner?  " 

"It  was  an  interesting  experience,"  replied  Albert, 
"  and  one  I  shall  not  soon  forget." 

"  Oh,  it  don't  do  'em  no  harm  to  git  together  an' 
pray  an'  sing,  an'  most  likely  it  divarts  their  minds 
from  other  troubles,  but  in  my  way  o'  thinkin',  prayin' 
is  a  good  deal  like  a  feller  tryin'  to  lift  himself  by  his 
boot-straps.  It  encourages  him  some,  but  he  don't  git 
much  further."  Then,  as  if  a  load  was  on  his  mind, 
he  added,  "  You  haven't  thought  o'  no  way  ter  git  me 
out  o'  my  scrape,  hev  ye  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  it,"  replied  Al 
bert,  "  and  the  best  way,  it  seems  to  me,  is  for  you  to 
go  right  to  Frye  and  tell  him  you  can't  afford  to  carry 
the  case  any  further,  and  offer  to  pay  whatever  fee  he 


THE    "  GYPSY  "    RETURNS  213 

sees  fit  to  ask.  You  can  tell  him  you  will  give  up  the 
case  entirely,  and  ask  him  to  return  the  proofs  you 
want.  I  may  decide  to  have  a  detective  within  hearing, 
so  that  if  he  refuses  you  these  things,  we  can  use  the 
detective  as  a  witness  in  a  replevin  suit.  Most  likely 
he  will  demand  quite  a  sum,  but  it  is  best  to  pay  it  if 
we  can  get  the  proofs.  I  will  advance  money  enough 
to  cover  what  he  is  likely  to  ask.  What  I  want  you 
to  do  is  to  wait  until  he  sends  for  more  money ;  then 
come  to  me  at  once  with  the  news." 

Uncle  Terry  looked  at  Albert  a  moment,  and  sud 
denly  grasping  his  hand,  exclaimed,  "  I  can't  thank 
ye  'nough  for  yer  offer  to  help  me,  but  I  kin  say  how 
sorry  I  am  I  distrusted  ye  at  fust,  and  as  long  as  I've 
a  roof  to  cover  my  head,  ye'r'  sure  to  find  a  welcome 
under  it,  an'  the  latch-string  allus  out." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kindly  words,  Mr.  Terry," 
responded  Albert,  "  and  I  am  likely  to  avail  myself  of 
your  invitation  again  before  the  summer  is  over.  I 
expect  my  friends  back  to-day  and  must  join  them, 
but  I  assure  you  I  would  much  prefer  to  stay  here  for 
the  two  weeks  I  have  planned  for  my  outing." 

"  Ye  won't  go  till  I  see  ye  again,  will  ye  ?  "  asked 
Uncle  Terry  anxiously. 

"  No,"  was  the  answer.  "  If  the  '  Gypsy  '  shows 
up  to-day  we  will  stay  in  the  harbor  to-night,  and  I 


214  UNCLE   TERRY 

should  like  to  have  you  and  Miss  Telly  visit  her." 
Then  as  the  old  man  pushed  off  and  pulled  out  of  the 
cove  with  long  slow  strokes,  Albert  watched  him  with 
a  new  interest.  "  Poor  old  fellow,"  he  thought,  "  he 
is  honest  as  the  day  is  long,  and  has  a  heart  of  gold 
beneath  his  blunt  speech.  How  hard  he  has  to  work 
for  what  he  gets,  and  what  a  vile  thing  it  was  in  Frye 
to  rob  him  so  !  "  When  the  old  man  was  out  of  sight 
Albert  strolled  over  to  the  village.  On  the  outer  side 
of  the  harbor,  and  opposite  where  the  houses  were,  he 
came  to  some  long  rows  of  slat  benches,  and  busy  at 
work  spreading  split  fish  upon  them  was  the  old  lady 
who  had  thanked  the  Lord  so  fervently  at  the  prayer- 
meeting.  As  she  noticed  Albert  she  paused  and  stood 
looking  at  him  curiously.  "Good  morning,  madam," 
he  said  as  he  neared  her ;  "  you  have  a  nice  day  to 
dry  your  fish,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  Lord's  bin  good  to  me  this  summer," 
she  answered,  still  eyeing  him,  and  added  quickly, 
"  you  be  the  young  man  from  Bosting  that's  stopping 
with  Uncle  Terry,  I  consider?  I  seen  ye  at  the  meet 
ing  last  night  with  Telly.  Do  you  belong  to  the 
world's  people,  or  hev  ye  made  yer  callin'  and  'lection 
sure?" 

It  was  rather  a  pointed  query  for  so  short  an  ac 
quaintance,  and  Albert  smiled.  "  I  hope  I  have  some 


215 


chance  of  being  saved  at  last,"  he  replied,  "but  tell 
me,  why  do  you  ask  ?  Do  I  look  wicked  ?  " 

"  Looks  be  mainly  deceivin',''  she  answered,  "  but 
if  your  heart's  with  the  Lord,  you're  sure  o'  salvation." 

"  You  have  a  large  lot  of  fish  to  care  for,  I  see,"  he 
replied,  not  wishing  to  discuss  religion  with  this  odd 
old  lady,  "  and  it  must  keep  you  busy." 

"  I  need  it,  for  the  winter's  cornin'  an'  then  there's 
no  work  for  me,"  she  answered  sadly,  resuming  her 
labor,  "  I'm  counted  as  one  o'  the  Lord's  poor  then." 

Albert  looked  at  the  thin  figure  upon  which  hung 
a  soiled  and  faded  calico  dress,  and  then  at  her  white 
hair  as  she  bent  over  her  work,  and  the  pitiful  sight 
and  the  pathos  of  her  words  touched  him.  "  If 
you  are  one  of  the  Lord's  poor  of  this  village,"  he 
thought,  "  the  Lord  doesn't  do  much  for  you ! " 
Then  going  to  her  and  taking  a  ten-dollar  bill  out  of 
his  pocket  he  said  kindly,  "  Miss  Terry  told  me  a  little 
about  you,  Mrs.  Leach,  and  for  her  sake  I'm  going  to 
ask  you  to  do  me  a  favor.  Here  is  a  little  money, 
and  please  accept  it  as  coming  from  the  Lord." 

The  old  woman  looked  startled  and  as  he  held  the 
money  out,  smiling  kindly,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
"Your  heart's  in  the  right  place  and  the  Lord'll 
surely  bless  ye  for  yer  goodness,"  she  said  as  she  took 
it,  and  then  Albert,  bidding  her  good  morning,  walked 


216  UNCLE  TERRY 

away.  He  little  realized  how  soon  that  crust  of 
bread,  cast  upon  the  waters,  would  return  and  bless 
him. 

For  an  hour  he  strolled  around  the  harbor,  watch 
ing  the  men  at  work  on  boats  or  fishing-gear,  and 
sniffing  the  salt-sea  odor  of  the  ocean  breeze,  and 
then  returned  to  the  point  and  began  sketching  the 
lighthouse.  He  was  absorbed  in  that  when  he  heard 
a  sharp  whistle,  and  looking  up,  there  was  the 
"  Gypsy  "  just  entering  the  harbor.  He  ran  to  the 
cove  where  he  had  left  his  boat,  and  by  the  time 
the  yacht  was  anchored,  had  pulled  alongside.  To 
his  surprise  no  one  was  aboard  but  Frank.  "  Where 
are  the  rest  of  the  boys  ?  "  he  asked,  as  that  young 
man  grasped  his  boat.  Frank  laughed.  "Well, 
just  about  now  they  are  playing  tennis  and  calling 
'  fifteen  love '  and  4  thirty  love '  with  a  lot  of  girls 
down  at  Bar  Harbor.  The  fact  is,  Bert,"  he  con 
tinued  as  Albert  stepped  aboard,  "  our  gander  cruise 
has  come  to  an  end.  They  ran  into  some  girls  they 
knew,  and  after  that  all  the  '  Gypsy '  was  good  for 
was  a  place  to  eat  and  sleep  in.  I've  run  her  up  here 
and  shall  let  you  keep  her  with  you  until  you  get 
ready  to  go  home.  I'm  going  to  cut  stick  for  Bethle 
hem,  and  if  I  can  get  one  of  the  girls  to  go  with  me, 
I  may  visit  Sandgate." 


RETURNS  217 

Albert  laughed  heartily.  "  Want  to  hear  some  one 
sing  '  Ben  Bolt '  again  ?  "  he  queried. 

"Well,  maybe,"  replied  Frank;  "the  fact  of  the 
matter  is,  the  whole  trip  has  gone  wrong  from  the 
start.  You  know  what  I  wanted,  but  as  it  couldn't 
be,  I  did  the  next  best  thing  and  made  up  this  party, 
and  now  the  cruise  has  ended  in  a  fizzle.  The  boys 
have  got  girl  on  the  brain,  and  I  am  disgusted." 

"  No  girl  on  your  brain,"  observed  Albert  dryly. 

"Well,  that's  different,"  was  the  'evasive  answer, 
and  then  he  added  suddenly,  "  By  the  way,  where  is 
the  girl  with  the  wonderful  eyes  you  met  here  ?  What 
about  girl  on  your  brain  ?  " 

"  Just  now  I  imagine  she's  helping  her  mother  in 
the  house,"  answered  Albert  quietly;  and  then  he 
added,  "  Well,  what  is  the  programme,  and  where  are 
you  going  with  the  '  Gypsy '  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  be  landed  at  the  nearest  port  where  I 
can  reach  a  railroad,"  answered  Frank,  "  and  then  you 
can  do  as  you  please  with  her.  My  skipper  will  do 
your  bidding." 

"  What  about  the  rest  of  the  boys?"   asked  Albert. 

"Well,"  replied  Frank,  "you  can  run  to  Bar 
Harbor  and  dance  with  the  girls  until  the  rest  want 
to  come  back,  or  you  can  do  as  you  please.  The 
'Gypsy'  is  yours  as  long  as  you  want  her,  after  I'm 


218  UNCLE  TERRY 

ashore.  I  think  I'll  run  up  to  Bath  and  take  the 
night  train  for  the  mountains,  if  there  is  one ;  if  not, 
we  will  lie  at  Bath  over  night." 

"I  must  go  ashore  and  leave  word  I  am  coming 
back,"  said  Albert ;  "  the  fact  is,  I've  found  a  client  in 
this  Mr.  Terry,  and  it's  an  important  matter." 

"So  is  the  blue-eyed  girl,  I  imagine,"  observed 
Frank  with  a  droll  smile.  When  the  irrepressible 
owner  of  the  4  Gypsy '  had  deserted  her,  Albert  returned 
to  the  Cape  and  remained  there  for  a  week.  How 
many  little  trips  he  induced  his  new-found  friends  to 
take  on  her  during  that  time,  how  much  gossip  it 
created  in  the  village,  and  how  many  happy  hours  he 
and  Telly  passed  together,  need  not  be  told.  The 
last  day  but  one  of  his  stay  he  invited  everybody  at 
the  Cape,  old  or  young,  to  go  out  on  a  short  cruise, 
and  nearly  all  accepted.  Mrs.  Leach,  however,  did 
not  come,  and  when  Albert  asked  Telly  the  reason 
she  answered  quietly,  "  It's  because  the  poor  old  soul 
is  ashamed  of  her  clothes." 

When  the  morning  of  his  departure  came  Uncle 
Terry  said,  "  I  hope  we'll  see  ye  soon,  Mr.  Page,  and 
ye'r'  sure  of  a  welcome  here,  so  don't  forget  us,"  and 
then  he  pulled  away  on  his  daily  round  to  his  traps. 

As  it  happened,  when  Albert  was  ready  to  start 
only  Telly  accompanied  him  to  the  cove  where  his 


THE    "  GYPSY  "   RETURNS  219 

boat  was,  and  when  she  bade  him  good-by  he  noticed 
her  voice  trembled  a  little,  and  as  he  held  her  hand  a 
moment,  her  face  was  turned  away.  When  the  yacht 
rounded  the  point  she  was  there  waving  an  adieu  and 
remained  there  until  lost  from  sight. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE   MISER   IN   HIS   DEN 

THE  one  point  of  pride  in  Nicholas  Frye's  nature 
was  his  absolute  belief  in  his  own  shrewdness. 
"  They  can't  get  the  best  of  me,"  he  would  say  to 
himself  when  he  had  won  an  unusually  knotty  case, 
and  winking  one  of  his  cat-like  eyes  he  would  say, 
half  aloud,  "  I'm  shrewd,  I'm  shrewd  as  the  devil !  " 
He  knew  he  was  both  hated  and  feared  by  his  fellow- 
members  of  the  bar,  but  it  mattered  not  to  him.  Be 
ing  hated  he  didn't  mind,  and  being  feared  flattered 
his  vanity  to  an  intense  degree,  When  Uncle  Terry 
put  himself  in  his  power  and,  like  a  good-natured  old 
sheep,  stood  to  be  sheared,  Frye  only  laughed  at  his 
client's  stupidity  and  set  out  to  continue  the  robbery 
as  long  as  possible.  Messrs.  Thygeson  &  Company,  of 
Stockholm,  who  had  first  employed  him  to  hunt  up 
an  heir  to  the  estate  of  old  Eric  Peterson,  whose  son 
Neils  and  his  young  wife  had  been  lost  on  the  coast 
of  Maine,  fared  no  better.  To  them  he  only  stated 
that  he  had  found  several  promising  clues  and  was 
following  them  as  rapidly  as  possible,  but  it  all  cost 


THE   MISER   IK  HIS   DEN  221 

money,  and  would  they  kindly  send  a  draft  on  ac 
count  for  necessary  expenses?  etc.,  etc.  To  shear 
them  as  close  as  possible  and  as  long  as  he  could  be 
fore  giving  any  return  for  their  money  was  part  of 
his  game.  All  were  fish  that  came  to  his  net,  and 
all  were  treated  alike  and  robbed  from  start  to  finish. 
When  Albert  had  turned  his  back  upon  him,  and, 
worse  than  that,  taken  away  his  best  client,  as  he 
afterwards  learned,  the  old  scoundrel  suffered  the 
worst  blow  to  his  vanity  he  ever  received.  "  Curse 
the  fellow !  "  he  would  say  to  himself.  "  I'll  pay  him 
and  have  revenge  if  I  live  long  enough,  and  I'll  never 
rest  till  I  do.  No  man  ever  got  the  best  of  me,  and 
in  the  long  run  no  man  ever  shall !  "  Like  an  Indian 
he  bided  his  time,  though  waiting  and  watching  with 
his  merciless  yellow  eyes  until  the  chance  might  come 
when  he  could  deal  a  ruinous  blow. 

But  there  is  a  Nemesis  that  follows  evil-doers  in 
this  world,  ready  to  strike  with  an  invisible  hand  all 
who  are  lost  to  the  sense  of  right  and  justice.  In 
Frye's  case  the  avenging  goddess  lurked  in  his  inor 
dinate  belief  in  his  own  shrewdness,  coupled  with  a 
fatuous  love  of  speculation.  A  few  lucky  ventures 
at  first  in  the  stock  market  had  fanned  the  flame 
until  he  believed  he  was  as  invincible  in  State  Street 
as  he  was  in  Pemberton  Square. 


222  UNCLE  TERRY 

Then  along  came  a  war-cloud  in  Europe ;  stocks 
began  to  drop  and  provisions  to  advance.  September 
wheat  was  then  selling  in  Chicago  at  ninety  cents. 
Frye  bought  fifty  thousand  bushels  on  a  margin. 
France  and  Germany  growled,  and  wheat  rose  to 
ninety-four.  Frye  sold,  clearing  two  thousand  dol 
lars.  Then  it  dropped  a  cent,  and  Frye  bought  a 
hundred  thousand  bushels  more.  Once  again  the  war- 
cloud  grew  black,  and  wheat  rose  to  ninety-eight. 
The  papers  were  full  of  wild  rumors,  and  "  The  Wall 
Street  Bugle  "  said  wheat  would  look  cheap  at  a  dollar 
and  a  half  inside  of  a  month.  Then  it  advanced  to  one 
dollar,  and  Frye  lost  his  head.  His  holdings  showed 
a  profit  of  seven  thousand  dollars,  and  sudden  riches 
stared  him  in  the  face.  Once  more  the  two  belli 
cose  foreign  powers  growled  and  showed  their  teeth. 
Wheat  rose  another  cent,  and  Frye  doubled  his  hold 
ings.  Then  the  powers  that  had  growled  smiled 
faintly,  and  in  one  day  wheat  fell  to  ninety-three  and 
remained  there.  Frye's  holdings  now  showed  a  net  loss 
of  eight  thousand  dollars,  and  he  kicked  the  office  boy 
out,  locked  the  door  in  Pemberton  Square,  and  from 
ten  till  three  watched  the  quotations  in  State  Street 
until  wheat  fell  to  ninety,  and  then  he  began  to  look 
around  to  raise  more  money.  He  had  now  put  up 
over  sixteen  thousand  dollars,  and  wheat  was  still 


THE  MISER   IN   HIS   DEN  223 

falling.  At  every  drop  of  a  cent  he  was  called  upon 
for  two  thousand  dollars.  Day  by  day  it  vibrated, 
now  going  up  a  cent,  and  then  dropping  two,  and 
when  Uncle  Terry  and  Albert  were  discussing  how 
to  checkmate  his  further  robbing  of  the  lighthouse 
keeper,  he  was,  with  muttered  curses,  watching  his 
ill-gotten  gains  vanish  to  the  tune  of  many  thousand 
dollars  per  diem.  He  neglected  his  business,  went 
without  his  meals,  and  forgot  to  shave.  He  had  mort 
gaged  his  real  estate  for  twenty  thousand,  and  that  was 
nearly  gone.  Wheat  was  now  down  to  eighty,  and 
France  and  Germany  were  shaking  hands.  Frye  was 
caught  in  a  trap  of  his  own  setting  and  could  not 
sleep  nights.  His  margins  were  almost  exhausted, 
and  his  resources  as  well.  He  had  put  up  forty  thou 
sand  dollars,  and  if  wheat  fell  three  cents  more,  it 
would  be  all  swept  away.  Then  he  executed  a  second 
mortgage  at  high  interest  and  waited.  It  was  the 
last  shot  in  his  locker,  and  all  that  stood  between  him 
and  ruin ;  but  wheat  advanced  two  cents  and  he  began 
to  hope.  He  had  absolutely  ignored  business  for  two 
weeks  that  had  been  one  long  stretch  of  misery,  and 
now  he  went  to  work  again.  To  collect  the  little  due 
him  and  raise  all  the  money  he  could  was  his  sole 
thought.  He  wrote  to  Thygeson  &  Company  that  he 
had  at  last  found  the  heir  they  were  in  search  of,  and 


224  UNCLE 


described  what  proofs  he  held,  at  the  same  time  stating 
that  on  receipt  of  his  fee  of  a  thousand  dollars  all 
and  sufficient  proofs  of  identity  of  the  claimant  would 
be  forwarded.  Then  he  wrote  to  Uncle  Terry  and 
demanded  three  hundred  more.  September  wheat 
had  now  fallen  to  seventy-eight. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN    SHADY   WOODS 

BLANCH  NASON,  Frank's  younger  sister,  was  his 
good  friend  and  sympathizer,  and  in  all  the  family  dis 
cussions  had  usually  taken  his  part.  His  elder  sister, 
Edith,  was  like  her  mother,  rather  arrogant  and  super 
cilious,  and  considered  her  brother  as  lacking  in 
family  pride,  and  liable  to  disgrace  them  by  some  un 
fortunate  alliance.  It  was  to  Blanch  he  always 
turned  when  he  needed  sympathy  and  help,  and  to 
her  at  Bethlehem  he  appeared  the  day  after  he  had 
left  the  "Gypsy."  His  coming  surprised  her  not  a 
little. 

"  Why,  what  has  brought  you  here,  Frank  ? "  she 
asked.  "  I  thought  you  were  having  high  jinks  down 
in  Maine* on  the  yacht,  and  playing  cards  every  night 
with  your  cronies  !  " 

44  Oh,  that  is  played  out,"  he  answered.  "  The 
boys  are  at  Bar  Harbor,  having  a  good  time.  Bert  is 
at  a  little  unheard-of  place  saying  sweet  things  to  a 
pretty  girl  he  found  there,  and  I  got  lonesome,  so  I 


226  UNCLE   TERRY 

came  up  here  to  see  you  and  get  you  to  help  me,"  he 
added  slyly. 

"  I  thought  so,"  answered  Blanch,  laughing  ;  "  you 
never  did  come  to  me  unless  you  wanted  help.  Well, 
who  is  the  girl  now,  and  what  do  you  want?  " 

Frank  looked  surprised. 

"  How  do  you  know  it  is  a  girl  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  usually  is  with  you,"  she  answered,  eyeing  him 
curiously.  "So  out  with  it.  What's  her  name  ? " 

"  Alice  Page,"  he  replied. 

"  What,  the  girl  you  wanted  us  to  invite  to  go  on 
the  yacht  ?  "  asked  Blanch. 

"  That's  the  one,"  he  replied,  "  and,  as  you  know, 
she  wouldn't  come." 

"  Which  shows  her  good  sense,"  interrupted  Blanch. 
"  Well,  what  can  I  do  in  the  matter?  " 

"  Much,  if  you  want  to,  and  nothing,  if  you  don't," 
he  answered.  "  The  fact  is,  sis,  I  want  you  to  pack  a 
trunk,  and  go  with  me  to  call  on  her.  She  is  mighty 
proud,  and  I  imagine  that  is  why  she  turned  the  cold 
shoulder  on  my  efforts  to  get  her  to  come  to  Boston 
and  meet  you  all.  Now,  if  you  go  there,  if  only  for 
one  night,  the  ice  will  be  broken,  and  of  course  you 
will  invite  her  to  visit  you,  and  all  will  go  well." 

"  A  nice  little  scheme,"  responded  Blanch,  "  but 
what  will  mamma  and  Ede  say,  do  you  think  ?  " 


IN   SHADY   WOODS  227 

"  Oh,  never  mind  them,"  answered  the  plotter ; 
"  they  need  never  know  it.  Just  tell  them  you  are 
going  to  Saratoga  with  me  for  a  few  days.  We  will 
go  there,  if  you  like,  only  we  will  stop  off  at  Sand- 
gate  on  the  way.  Now  do  this  for  me,  sis,  and  I'll 
buy  you  the  earth  when  Christmas  comes !  " 

"  Well,  you  will  have  to  stay  here  until  Monday," 
said  Blanch,  "  and  be  real  nice  to  mamma  and  Ede 
all  the  time,  or  I  can't  fix  it.  Lucky  for  you,  Master 
Frank,  that  they  are  out  driving  now  !  " 

"  But  why  must  we  wait  four  days  ?  "  asked  Frank 
petulantly. 

"  Because,  my  love-lorn  brother,"  she  replied,  "  in 
the  first  place  I  don't  want  to  miss  the  Saturday- 
night  hop,  and  then  we  are  booked  for  a  buck-board 
ride  to  the  Flume  to-morrow.  Another  reason  is,  I 
mean  to  pay  you  for  turning  your  back  on  us  and 
going  off  on  the  c  Gypsy.' " 

That  afternoon  our  eager  suitor  wrote  Alice  the 
longest  letter  she  had  ever  received,  for  it  consisted 
of  nine  full  pages.  As  most  of  it  can  easily  be  im 
agined,  there  is  no  need  to  quote  it ;  suffice  it  to  say 
that  it  was  received  with  some  pleasure  and  a  little 
vexation  by  Alice. 

"  Mr.  Nason  and  his  sister  are  coming  here  Monday," 
said  she  to  Aunt  Susan,  "  and  we  must  put  on  our 


228  UNCLE  TERRY 

best  bib  and  tucker,  I  suppose.     But  how  we  can  con 
trive  to  entertain  his  sister  is  beyond  me."     Never 
theless,   she  was   rather   pleased   at  the   prospective 
visitation,  for  in  a  measure  it  was  a  vindication  of 
her  own  position.     Then  again  as  her  school  had  been 
closed  for  over  a  month,  her  daily  life  was  becoming 
decidedly  monotonous.     When    Albert  had  written 
regarding  the  invitation  the  Nasons   had  extended, 
she  believed  it  was  due  solely  to  Frank's  influence, 
and  when  that  young  man  tried  to  obtain  her  consent 
to  join  a  yachting-party,   providing  his  mother  and 
sister  decided  to  go,  she  was  morally  sure  of  it.     But 
it  made  no  difference,  for  if  the  supposedly  aristocratic 
Mrs.  Nason  had  sent  her  a  written  invitation  she  was 
the  last  person  in  the  world  to  accept  it.     To  so  go  out 
of  her  way  for  the  possible  opportunity  of  allowing 
the  only  son  of  a  rich  family  to  pay  court  to  her  was 
not  characteristic  of  Alice  Page.     Rather  a  thousand 
times  would  she  teach  school  in  single  blessedness  all 
her  life  than  be  considered  as  putting  herself  in  the 
way  of    a   probable    suitor.      Of  her     own  feelings 
toward  Frank  she  was  not  at   all  sure.     He  was  a 
good-looking  young  fellow  and  no  doubt  stood  well 
socially.     At  first  she  had  felt  a  little  contempt  for 
him,  due  to  his  complaints  that  he  had  hard  work  to 
kill  time.     When  she  received  the  letter  announcing 


IN   SHADY   WOODS  229 

his  determination  to  study  law  and  become  a  useful 
man  in  the  world  she  thought  better  of  him.  When 
he  came  up  in  June  it  became  clear  that  he  was  de 
cidedly  in  love  with  her,  for  none  of  Mother  Eve's 
daughters  are  ever  long  in  doubt  on  that  point.  So 
self-evident  were  his  feelings  that  she  at  that  time 
felt  compelled  to  avoid  giving  him  a  chance  to  express 
them.  Her  heart  was  and  always  had  been  entirely 
free  from  the  pangs  of  love,  and  while  his  devotion 
was  in  a  way  quite  flattering,  the  one  insurmountable 
barrier  was  his  family.  Had  he  been  more  diplomatic 
he  would  never  have  told  her  his  mother  frowned  at 
him  when  he  danced  twice  with  a  poor  girl ;  but  un 
wisely  he  had ;  and  to  a  girl  of  Alice's  pride  and  pen 
etration,  that  was  enough.  "  I  am  a  poor  girl,"  she 
thought,  when  he  made  the  admission,  "  but  I'll  wear 
old  clothes  all  my  life  before  his  haughty  mother  shall 
read  him  a  lecture  for  dancing  twice  with  me." 

Ever  since  the  day  Mrs.  Mears  had  related  the 
village  gossip  to  her,  she  had  thought  a  good  many 
times  about  the  cause  of  it,  but  to  no  one  had  she 
ever  mentioned  the  matter  since.  Her  only  associate, 
good-natured  Abby  Miles,  had  never  dared  to  speak 
of  it,  and  Aunt  Susan  was  wise  enough  not  to,  for 
which  Frank  ought  to  have  been  grateful,  and  no 
doubt  would  have  been,  had  he  known  it.  Now  that 


230  UNCLE   TEBBY 

he  and  his  fashionable  sister  were  coming  to  Sandgate 
Alice  felt  a  good  deal  worried.  Firstly,  she  knew  her 
own  stock  of  gowns  was  inadequate  —  no  young 
woman,  especially  if  she  he  pretty,  enjoys  being  over 
shadowed  by  another  in  the  matter  of  dress,  and  Alice 
was  no  exception.  While  not  vain  of  her  looks,  —  and 
she  had  ample  reason  to  be,  —  she  yet  felt  his  sister 
would  consider  her  countrified  in  dress,  or  else  realize 
the  truth  that  she  was  painfully  poor.  She  had  made 
the  money  her  brother  gave  her  go  as  far  as  possible 
—  that  was  not  far.  Her  own  small  salary  was  not 
more  than  enough  to  pay  current  expenses,  and  had 
he  known  how  hard  she  had  contrived  to  make  one 
dollar  do  the  work  of  two  he  would  have  pitied  her. 
When  the  day  and  train  arrived,  and  she  had  ushered 
her  two  guests  into  their  rooms,  her  worry  began.  A 
trunk  had  come,  and  as  she  busied  herself  to  help 
Aunt  Susan  get  supper  under  way  before  she  changed 
her  dress,  she  was  morally  sure  Miss  Nason  would 
appear  in  a  gown  fit  for  a  state  dinner.  But  when 
.she  was  dressed  and  went  out  on  the  porch  where  her 
guests  were,  she  found  Miss  Blanch  attired  in  a  white 
muslin,  severe  in  its  simplicity.  It  was  a  pleasant 
surprise,  and  then  the  matter  of  dress  no  longer 
troubled  her,  for  at  no  time  during  their  stay  did 
Alice  feel  any  reason  to  consider  herself  poorly  clad 


IN    SHADY  WOODS  231 

in  comparison.  Of  the  conversation  that  evening,  so 
little  was  said  that  is  pertinent  to  this  narrative  that 
only  a  few  utterances  deserve  space.  Alice  had  the 
happy  faculty  of  finding  out  what  subjects  her  guests 
were  most  interested  in  and  kept  them  talking  upon 
them.  Blanch  gave  an  interesting  description  of  her 
life  at  the  Maple  wood;  who  were  there,  what  gowns 
the  ladies  wore  ;  the  hops,  drives,  tennis,  croquet,  and 
whist  games  ;  and  when  that  topic  was  exhausted 
Alice  turned  to  Frank  and  said,  "  Now  tell  us  about 
your  trip." 

"  There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  he  answered  in  a  dis 
appointed  tone.  "The  fact  is  my  yachting-trip  was 
a  failure  from  start  to  finish.  I  hoped  to  induce 
mother  and  the  girls  to  go,  and  to  coax  you  to  join 
us,  but  that  plan  failed.  Then  I  made  up  a  party  of 
fellows  and  started.  Two  of  them  played  banjos,  and 
that,  with  singing,  fishing,  and  cards,  I  thought  would 
make  a  good  time.  I  had  a  two  weeks'  trip  all  mapped 
out,  no  end  of  stores  on  board,  and  anticipated  lots  of 
fun ;  but  it  didn't  materialize.  The  second  day  Bert 
got  left  on  the  island,  and  we  didn't  find  him  until 
the  next  day.  In  the  meantime  he  had  found  a  pretty 
girl  and  acted  as  if  he  had  become  smitten  with  her. 
Then  we  ran  to  Bar  Harbor,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys 
found  some  girls  they  knew,  and  decided  at  once  that 


232  UNCLE    TERRY 

a  gander  cruise  had  lost  its  charms  ;  so  I  threw  up  my 
hands,  and  you  know  the  rest.  I  turned  the  c  Gypsy ' 
over  to  Bert,  and  for  all  I  know  or  care  he  is  using 
her  to  entertain  his  island  fairy.  I  hope  so,  anyhow. 
But  I've  got  the  merry  ha-ha  on  him  all  right,  and  if 
he  ever  rings  the  changes  on  a  certain  subject,  he'll 
hear  it,  too."  What  that  certain  subject  was  Alice 
did  not  see  fit  to  ask,  but  joined  with  Blanch  in  a 
good  laugh  at  Frank's  dolorous  description  of  his  trip 
and  its  Waterloo  at  the  hands  of  a  few  girls. 

"  It  seems  you  can't  get  along  without  us  much 
despised  creatures,"  observed  Blanch,  "  and  if  you  had 
come  to  Bethlehem  in  the  first  place  you  would  have 
had  a  good  time.  There  were  no  end  of  pretty  girls 
at  the  Maplewood,  and  eligible  Romeos  were  scarce  as 
white  crows." 

"  I  never  said  I  could  get  along  without  girls,"  re 
plied  Frank,  a  little  piqued,  "  only  I  wanted  girls  to 
go  on  my  yacht,  that  was  all." 

"  And  as  the  mountain  wouldn't  come  to  Ma 
homet,  "  put  in  Blanch,  "  why,  Mahomet  came  to 
Bethlehem." 

When  the  chit-chat  slowed  down  Alice  said,  "I 
don't  know  how  to  entertain  you  two  good  people  in 
this  dull  place,  though  I  want  to  very  much.  There 
are  mountains  and  woods  galore  and  lots  of  pretty 


IN   SHADY   WOODS  233 

drives.  And,"  looking  at  Frank,  "I  know  where 
there  is  a  nice  mill-pond  full  of  lilies,  and  an  old  moss- 
covered  mill,  and  a  miller  that  looks  like  a  picture  in 
story  books.  There  is  also  a  drive  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  where  the  view  is  simply  grand.  I  have  a 
steady-going  and  faithful  old  horse,  and  we  will  go 
wherever  you  like." 

"Do  not  worry  about  me,  Miss  Page,"  replied 
Blanch,  "  if  I  can  see  mountain,  and  woods,  I  am  per 
fectly  happy." 

When  the  evening  was  nearing  its  close  Frank 
begged  Alice  to  sing,  but  she  at  first  declined. 

"  Do  you  play  or  sing,  Miss  Nason  ? "  she  asked 
cautiously. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  be  afraid  of  me,"  was  the  answer, 
"  I  never  touched  a  piano  in  my  life.  Once  in  a  while 
I  join  in  the  chorus,  as  they  say,  for  my  own  amuse 
ment  and  the  amazement  of  others,  but  that  is  all." 

It  wasn't  all,  for  she  played  the  guitar  and  sang 
sweetly,  but  kept  that  talent  to  herself  on  this  occa 
sion.  Finally  Alice  was  persuaded  to  open  the  piano, 
and  then  out  upon  the  still  night  air  there  floated 
many  an  old-time  ballad.  After  that  she  played  selec 
tions  from  a  few  of  the  latest  light  operas  that  Frank 
had  sent  her,  and  then  turned  away.  "  Oh,  don't 
stop  now,"  exclaimed  both  her  guests  at  once,  "sing 


234  UNCLE    TERRY 

a  few  more  songs."  Then  with  almost  an  air  of 
proprietorship  Frank  arose,  and  going  to  the  piano 
searched  for  and  found  a  well-worn  song.  Without  a 
word  he  opened  and  placed  it  on  the  music  rack.  It 
was  "  Ben  Bolt "  !  A  faint  color  rose  in  Alice's  face, 
but  she  turned  and  played  the  prelude  without  a  word. 
When  she  had  sung  the  first  verse,  to  her  surprise 
Blanch  was  standing  beside  her,  and  joined  her  voice 
in  the  next  one.  When  it  was  finished,  Frank  in 
sisted  on  a  repetition,  and  after  that  all  three  sang  a 
dozen  more  of  the  sweet  old-time  songs,  so  familiar  to 
all.  Then  Alice  left  the  room  to  bring  in  a  light 
lunch,  and  Frank  seized  the  opportunity  to  say, 
"  Well,  sis,  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  she  replied,  "  that  you  were  foolish  to 
go  yachting  at  all.  If  I  had  been  you  I  should  have 
come  up  here  in  the  first  place,  stayed  at  the  hotel,  and 
courted  her  every  chance  I  could.  I  am  in  love  with 
her  myself,  and  we  haven't  been  here  six  hours." 

To  her  surprise  Frank  stepped  up  to  her  quickly 
and,  taking  her  face  in  his  hands,  kissed  her. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

WHERE   THE  LILIES   GROW 

Two  days  of  Alice's  visitation  passed  like  a  summer 
breeze.  The  first  day  they  drove  to  the  old  mill  and 
spent  the  entire  forenoon  gathering  lilies  and  watch 
ing  the  great  wheel  that  dripped  and  clattered  be 
tween  its  moss-grown  walls.  It  was  a  curiosity  to 
Blanch,  for  never  in  her  life  had  she  seen  one  of  those 
old-time  landmarks,  now  so  rare.  That  afternoon 
they  drove  to  the  mountain's  top  and  saw  the  sunset, 
only  to  be  late  home  to  Aunt  Susan's  tea  biscuit  and 
cold  chicken,  and  having  a  surprising  appetite.  The 
next  day  they  made  a  picnic  trip  to  another  mountain, 
leaving  the  horse  half  way  up  and  walking  the  rest 
of  the  way.  At  noon  they  returned,  and  beside  a 
cold  spring  that  bubbled  beneath  a  rock  they  opened 
their .  lunch  baskets.  Then  they  picked  flowers, 
hunted  for  wintergreen,  and  decked  the  horse  and 
wagon  with  ferns  and  wreaths  of  laurel,  —  only  simple 
country  pleasures,  it  is  true,  but  they  at  least  had  the 
charm  of  newness  for  two  of  the  party.  That  even- 


236  UNCLE   TERRY 

ing  they  sang  all  sorts  of  songs,  from  gospel  hymns 
to  comic  operas,  and  Blanch  showed  in  so  many  ways 
that  she  admired  her  new-found  friend  that  there  was 
no  further  restraint. 

"  I  wish  you  would  stay  with  me  until  my  school 
begins,  Blanch,"  said  Alice  at  the  close  of  the  even 
ing.  "  If  you  knew  how  lonely  I  am,  I  am  sure  you 
would." 

"  I  might  be  persuaded  to  make  a  longer  visit  next 
summer,"  was  the  answer,  "if  you  will  return  this 
visit  next  winter  ;  will  you  ?" 

"I  won't  promise  now,"  answered  Alice,  "I  am 
afraid  I  should  be  out  of  place  in  your  society.  I'm 
only  a  country  girl,  you  know." 

"  I  shall  feel  hurt  if  you  don't,"  responded  Blanch. 

When  two  girls  who  have  known  one  another  but 
four  days  begin  using  each  other's  first  names,  it  may 
be  considered  that  they  are  growing  fond  of  each 
other.  It  was  so  in  this  case,  and  the  remark  that 
Blanch  had  made  the  first  evening  to  her  brother  was 
sincere. 

In  the  goodness  of  her  heart  she  had  also  refrained 
from  wearing  her  best  frocks,  fearing  that  Alice  might 
feel  herself  overshadowed,  and  that  is  an  act  of  con 
sideration  of  which  few  of  the  fair  sex  are  capable. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  that  schoolhouse  Frank  has 


WHERE  THE   LILIES   GBOW  237 

spoken  of  several  times,"  she  said  a  little  later,  "  and 
that  barefoot  girl  he  told  about." 

It  was  the  first  allusion  to  his  interest  in  her  that 
Blanch  had  made,  and  Alice  colored ;  a  trifle  that  did 
not  escape  her  friend's  eye. 

"  We  will  drive  by  where  that  girl  lives  to-morrow," 
responded  Alice,  "  and  if  you  like,  will  call  and  see 
her.  It  would  please  her  mother  very  much,  and 
really  the  girl  is  worth  it.  She  is  the  most  original 
little  old  woman  in  my  school." 

The  next  morning  when  Frank  and  his  sister  were 
alone  for  a  few  moments  she  said,  "  I  am  going  to  do 
you  a  good  turn  to-day,  Sir  Mahomet,  and  have  a 
headache,"  and,  laughing  a  little,  "  if  you  are  wise 
you  will  improve  your  opportunities  and  persuade 
your  '  Sweet  Alice '  to  go  after  pond  lilies  and  leave 
me  here.  I  noticed  a  most  charming  spot  for  a 
tete-d-tete  on  one  side  of  that  pond  the  other  day,  and 
I  guess  you  can  find  it  if  you  try.  It's  a  mossy  bank 
under  a  big  tree,  and  out  of  sight  of  the  old  mill." 
Was  ever  brother  blessed  with  a  better  sister ! 

But  the  wary  Alice  was  not  to  be  caught  so  easily. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  going  after  lilies,"  she  replied 
when  he  proposed  the  trip,  "  and  leaving  your  sister 
alone ;  and  then  it  is  almost  too  warm  to  be  out  in 
the  sun  this  morning.  If  she  feels  better  this  after- 


238  UNCLE   TERRY 

noon  we  will  go  there  when  the  sun  gets  part  way 
down." 

When  Blanch  obtained  a  chance  she  said  to  her 
brother  with  a  wise  look,  "  Now  I  know  why  you 
couldn't  coax  your  pretty  schoolma'am  to  come  to 
Boston.  She's  too  keen  to  walk  into  any  trap,  and  I 
like  her  all  the  better  for  it.  But  leave  the  matter 
to  me.  I'll  give  you  a  chance,  and  when  you  see  it, 
seize  it  quick,  talk  fast,  and  don't  be  afraid.  She 
won't  allow  herself  to  be  left  long  alone  with  you 
while  I  am  here." 

True  to  her  sisterly  interest,  Blanch  kept  quiet  all 
the  morning  and  after  dinner  was  the  first  to  propose 
another  trip  to  the  lily  pond.  "  I  am  in  love  with 
that  old  mill,"  she  said,  "  and  I  want  to  see  it  when 
the  sun  gets  down  so  it  will  be  shady  there." 

When  they  reached  the  spot  she  at  once  developed 
an  unusual  interest  in  the  mill  and  began  an  animated 
conversation  with  the  miller  regarding  it  and  all  its 
history. 

"  You  two  go  after  the  lilies,"  she  said  when  Frank 
had  the  boat  ready,  "  and  leave  me  here.  I'm  afraid 
the  sun  on  the  water  will  bring  back  my  headache." 

A  wee  little  frown  crept  over  the  face  of  Alice,  for 
she  saw  through  the  plot,  but  she  answered  gayly, 
"All  right,  only  your  smiles  will  be  wasted  on  the 


WHERE   THE  LILIES   GROW  239 

miller.  He  is  too  old  to  appreciate  them.  We  won't 
be  gone  long,"  she  added  as  she  stepped  into  the  boat. 
She  surmised  that  Blanch's  headache  was  a  ruse  in 
stigated  by  her  admirer,  and  this  sudden  interest  in 
the  mill's  history  only  another,  and,  on  guard  ever, 
determined  to  check  any  and  all  serious  words  from 
him.  And  now  what  spirit  of  mischief  had  come  over 
her  ?  She  joked  and  jested  on  all  manner  of  subjects 
— the  boat,  his  rowing,  Blanch's  interest  in  the  miller, 
and  her  blue  eyes  sparkled  with  roguish  intent.  She 
bared  one  round  arm  to  the  elbow,  and  pulling  every 
bud  and  blossom  she  could  reach,  pelted  her  cavalier 
with  them. 

"  Did  you  learn  that  stroke  at  college,"  she  asked, 
when  one  of  his  oars  slipped  and  he  nearly  fell  back 
wards,  "  or  is  that  the  way  a  yachtsman  always  rows  ?  " 

In  response  to  all  this  he  said  but  little,  for  he  was 
thinking  how  best  to  say  what  was  on  his  mind.  He 
had  resolved  to  declare  himself  at  the  first  chance,  and 
now  that  he  had  one  his  heart  was  like  to  fail  him. 
When  he  reached  the  spot  Blanch  had  referred  to  he 
headed  the  boat  for  the  shore  and  as  it  came  to  a  stop 
he  said,  "  Let's  get  out  and  sit  on  the  bank,  Miss 
Page.  I  want  to  rest." 

"  Oh,  we  must  not  stop,"  answered  his  tormentor ; 
"  it's  almost  sundown,  and  besides,  I  want  more  lilies." 


240  UNCLE   TERRY 

She  made  no  move  to  arise,  but  kept  prodding  a 
lily  pad  in  the  water  beside  her  with  one  taper  finger. 
By  some  chance,  too,  her  broad  sun-hat  was  well  down 
over  her  face.  Frank  was  silent  while  he  looked  at 
the  piquant  figure  with  half-hidden  face  and  bare 
arm,  sitting  so  near  him.  One  little  foot  peeped  out 
beneath  her  dress,  one  hand  held  fast  to  the  boat 
while  the  other  toyed  with  the  green  pad,  and  back  of 
her  lay  the  still  pond  dotted  with  countless  blossoms. 
Only  the  tip  of  her  nose  could  be  seen,  and  beneath 
it  two  red  lips  about  which  lingered  a  roguish  smile. 

His  heart  beat  a  little  faster,  and  almost  did  it  fail 
him. 

u Won't  you  get  out,  Miss  Page?"  he  asked  at  last, 
rather  doggedly.  "  I've  something  I  want  to  say  to 
you  and  —  and  it's  nice  to  sit  in  the  shade  and  talk." 

The  break  had  come  and  she  could  evade  him  no 
longer.  Without  a  word  or  even  a  look  she  arose 
and,  taking  his  proffered  hand,  stepped  out  of  the 
boat.  And  strange  to  say,  he  retained  that  moist 
hand  as  if  to  lead  her  to  a  seat.  Only  a  few  steps  up 
a  mossy  bank  offered  its  temptation,  and  with  quick 
gallantry  he  drew  his  coat  off  and  spread  it  for  her  to 
sit  upon. 

"It's  nice  and  cool  here,"  she  said,  "but  we  must 
not  stay  long.  Blanch  will  be  waiting." 


WHERE   THE   LILIES   GKOW  241 

In  a  way  it  was  an  unwise  speech,  for  it  recalled 
his  sister's  warning  to  talk  fast  and  not  be  afraid.  As 
is  usual  with  most  lovers,  he  had  thought  many  times 
of  what  he  would  say,  and  how  he  would  say  it ;  but 
now  that  the  critical  moment  had  come,  his  well- 
chosen  words  vanished.  He  had  remained  standing, 
and  for  a  moment  looked  at  Alice  as  she  sat  with  hat- 
hidden  face,  and  than  his  heart-burst  came. 

"Miss  Page,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "you  must 
know  what  I  want  to  say  and  —  and  I've  come  all  the 
way  from  Maine  to  say  it,  and  can  you  —  is  there 
any  hope  for  me  in  your  feelings  ?  Is  there  just  a 
little?" 

He  paused,  but  no  answer  came,  only  her  head  sank 
a  trifle  lower  and  now  even  the  tip  of  her  chin  was 
invisible  beneath  the  hat.  It  may  be  the  movement 
emboldened  him,  for  in  an  instant  he  was  beside  her 
on  the  ground  and  had  one  hand  a  prisoner. 

"  Tell  me,  Alice,"  he  pleaded,  "  is  there  any  chance 
for  me  ?  Say  just  one  word  —  only  one  !  Say  '  yes  '  !  " 

The  prisoned  hand  was  at  his  lips  now,  and  then 
she  raised  her  face  and  oh,  divine  sight !  those  blue 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears  ! 

One  instant  flash  of  heaven  only,  and  then  a  change 
came.  Almost  had  she  yielded,  but  not  quite,  for 
now  she  arose  quickly  and  turning  away  said  half 


242  UNCLE   TEKRY 

petulantly,  "  Oh,  please  don't  speak  of  that  now  and 
spoil  our  visit.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  mill." 

But  still  he  held  the  little  hand,  and  as  she  tried  to 
draw  it  away  he  said  pitifully:  "Do  you  mean  it, 
Alice  ?  Is  it  no  ?  Oh,  don't  let  me  go  away  without 
one  word  of  hope  !  " 

Then  she  raised  her  one  free  arm,  and  resting  it 
against  a  nearby  tree  pressed  her  face  upon  it  and 
almost  whispered,  "  Oh,  don't  ask  me  now !  I  can't 
say  4  yes  '  and  I  can't  say  '  no  ' !  " 

"  I  shall  believe  that  your  heart  says  '  yes,'  "  he  re 
sponded  quickly,  slipping  one  arm  around  her  waist, 
"  and  until  you  do  say '  no '  I  shall  keep  on  loving  you 
just  the  same." 

But  he  had  not  won  her  yet,  for  she  drew  herself 
away,  and  turning  a  piteous  face  toward  him  ex 
claimed,  "  Don't,  please,  say  another  word  now,  or  I 
shall  hate  myself  as  long  as  I  live  if  you  do  !  " 

For  one  moment  he  stood  clumfounded,  and  then 
it  all  dawned  upon  him.  "  Forgive  me,  sweet  Alice," 
he  said  softly,  "  for  speaking  too  soon.  I  believe  I 
know  why  you  feel  as  you  do,  and  I  shall  go  away 
hoping  that  in  time  you  will  come  to  know  my  mother 
better.  And  since  you  have  said  that  you  can't  say 
'no,'  I  shall  anticipate  that  some  time  it  will  be  'yes.' 
Now  we  will  go  and  gather  lilies." 


WHERE   THE  LILIES   GROW  243 

Then  as  he  led  her  to  the  boat  once  more  his  arm 
stole  around  her  waist,  and  this  time  she  did  not  try 
to  escape  its  pressure. 

When  two  days  afterward  the  brother  and  sister 
were  ready  to  depart,  Blanch  put  one  arm  caressingly 
around  Alice  and  whispered,  "  Now  remember,  you 
have  promised  to  make  me  a  visit  next  winter,  and 
you  must  keep  your  promise." 

And  poor  Romeo,  standing  by,  had  to  look  the  love 
that  was  in  his  heart  while  he  envied  his  sister  her 
parting  kiss. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

A  PKIEND  AT   COURT 

WHEN  Frank  and  his  sister  were  away  from  Sand- 
gate  she  said,  "Well,  my  dear  Ben  Bolt,  did  you 
capture  your  sweet  Alice  that  afternoon  I  told  so 
many  fibs  to  help  you  ?  I  know  you  must  have  made 
an  effort,  for  she  showed  it  plainly." 

"  No,  I  did  not,"  he  answered  frankly,  "  but  I  made 
a  break,  and  as  she  didn't  take  it  amiss,  I  feel  hope 
ful.  The  fact  is,  sis,"  he  continued  ruefully,  "  she  is 
the  most  proud-spirited  girl  I  ever  met,  and  mother  is 
the  ogre  that  stands  in  the  way.  If  mother  approves 
of  Alice  I  am  all  right,  but  if  she  doesn't  receive  her 
with  open  arms,  it's  all  day  with  me." 

"I  could  have  told  you  that  the  day  after  we 
arrived  there,"  answered  Blanch,  "  and  I  am  not  sur 
prised.  Now  "  —  with  a  laugh  —  "  you  must  court 
mamma  for  a  few  months,  as  well  as  your  pretty 
Alice.  It  will  do  you  good,  for  you  never  have  been 
over-dutiful." 

Frank  frowned.     "Oh,  bother  these  finicky  moth- 


A   FRIEND   AT   COURT  245 

ers !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why  will  they  turn  up  their 
noses  at  every  poor  girl  ?  If  Alice  had  rich  parents 
she  would  be  all  right,  no  matter  if  she  were  as 
homely  as  a  hedge  fence." 

"Maybe  that's  so,"  answered  Blanch,  "but  you 
can't  change  mamma,  and  if  you  want  to  win  your 
Alice  you  must  do  as  I  tell  you  and  court  mamma. 
Now  I  will  tell  you  what  to  do,  and  if  you're  good  to 
me  I'll  help  you  do  it.  In  the  first  place  you  must 
stay  at  Bethlehem  until  we  go  home,  and  do  all  you 
can  to  please  your  mother.  Take  her  driving,  ask 
her  to  play  whist  with  you,  and  when  she  makes  a 
good  play,  praise  it;  carry  her  wraps  for  her;  be 
solicitous  about  her  welfare  and  comfort  in  all  things, 
and  treat  her  just  as  if  she  were  Alice  instead  of 
mamma.  It  won't  be  as  pleasant,  but  it  will  be  good 
practice  for  you.  Then  when  she  is  well  cared  for, 
act  downcast  at  times  and  depressed.  Wait  a  few 
days  before  working  the  melancholy  act  —  that's 
enough  to  provoke  her  interest  —  and  don't  say  much 
to  other  girls.  Dance  with  Ede  and  me  and  say  sweet 
things  to  mamma  for  a  week.  Then  some  day  take 
her  out  for  a  drive  and  act  as  if  you  had  lost  your 
last  friend.  She  will  inevitably  ask  what  ails  you; 
but  don't  tell  her  too  quickly — let  her  coax  you  a 
little,  and  after  a  while  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 


246  UNCLE  TERRY 

"  I  would  suggest  you  insinuate  the  girl  has  favored 
your  suit,  but  has  practically  said  'no,'  because  she  is 
too  proud  to  marry  into  a  rich  family.  That  will  do 
more  to  pique  mamma's  interest  in  the  matter  than 
volumes  of  praise  for  Alice.  Don't  say  too  much, 
but  if  she  questions  you  about  her,  answer  frankly 
to  the  point,  but  convey  the  impression  that  you  con 
sider  your  case  hopeless,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

Frank  looked  at  his  sister  in  silent  admiration.  "  I 
didn't  know  you  had  such  a  wise  head  on  your 
shoulders,"  he  said  at  last,  "or  cared  so  much  for 
me." 

It  was  a  nice  thing  to  say,  and  well  deserved,  for 
few  brothers  ever  do  have  better  sisters  than  Frank 
was  blessed  with ;  and  if  more  impetuous  young  men 
would  make  confidants  of  their  mothers  or  sisters  in 
matters  matrimonial,  and  heed  their  advice,  there 
would  be  fewer  divorces. 

When  Frank  and  Blanch  had  made  a  short  stop  at 
Saratoga,  "  just  to  be  able  to  say  so,"  as  Blanch  said, 
they  returned  to  Bethlehem  and  the  little  domestic 
drama  began.  At  first  it  was  not  much  to  Frank's 
liking,  but  as  it  progressed  he  grew  interested  in 
watching  the  surprising  effect  it  had  on  his  proud 
mother.  To  have  her  only  son,  and  a  handsome 
young  fellow  at  that,  show  her  so  much  devotion 


A   FRIEND   AT   COURT  247 

before  crowds  of  people,  gladdened  her  heart  in  a 
wonderful  way,  and  as  it  was  soon  noticed  and  com 
mented  upon  to  her,  it  flattered  her  amazingly.  She 
had  known  that  Frank  was  from  the  first  a  little  smit 
ten  with  this  sister  of  his  college  chum ;  but  as  he 
had  had  several  mild  cases  of  being  smitten  before, 
she  thought  nothing  of  it.  With  wise  motherly  cau 
tion,  she  took  good  care  to  ask  no  questions,  even 
when  Blanch  told  her  they  had  visited  Alice  on  their 
way  to  Saratoga.  When  the  denouement  came  she 
was,  as  Blanch  had  predicted,  completely  taken 
aback.  It  was  a  decidedly  new  experience  to  her  to 
learn  that  any  girl  could  turn  her  back  upon  her  son's 
suit  because  he  came  from  a  wealthy  and  aristocratic 
family.  While  it  surprised  her  a  good  deal,  it  also 
awakened  her  admiration  for  that  girl  still  more. 
The  one  dread  of  her  life  had  been  that  her  impetu 
ous  son  would  make  an  unfortunate  alliance  and  dis 
grace  the  family.  She  made  but  little  reply  to  his 
lovelorn  tale,  except  to  laugh  at  him  and  assure  him 
he  would  soon  overcome  it ;  but  that  night  in  the 
privacy  of  her  room  she  questioned  Blanch  in  a  sly 
way  very  amusing  to  that  shrewd  daughter. 

"Frank  has  not  made  me  his  confidant,"  Blanch 
replied,  "only  I  noticed  he  was  very  attentive  to 
Miss  Page,  while  she  seemed  to  avoid  being  left 


248  UNCLE   TEKKY 

alone  with  him  a  moment.  She  is  one  of  the  sweet 
est  and  prettiest  girls  I've  met  in  a  long  time,  and 
also  one  of  the  proudest.  I  quite  fell  in  love  with 
her  at  sight,  and  am  sure  Frank  has ;  but  so  far  as 
I  saw,  she  gave  him  no  encouragement.  She  is  poor, 
pretty,  and  proud ;  and  that  tells  the  whole  story. 
I  imagined  she  believed  she  would  not  be  welcomed 
by  you,  and  while  I  begged  her  to  come  and  visit 
me,  I  doubt  if  she  does."  (A  fib.) 

This  practically  ended  the  first  part  of  the  play, 
though  Frank  noticed  his  mother  watched  him  more 
closely  and  showed  an  increased  tenderness  towards 
him. 

"  Keep  on  courting  mamma,"  Blanch  whispered  to 
him  one  evening  when  they  were  alone,  "  she  is 
watching  you  to  see  if  you  mean  it,  and  is  both  sur 
prised  and  pleased.  As  I  expected,  she  has  quizzed 
me,  and  if  you  convince  her  you  are  in  earnest,  and 
are  really  the  discarded  and  forlorn  lover  you  affect 
to  be,  it  will  end  by  her  writing  your  sweet  Alice  a 
personal  letter  of  invitation  to  visit  us.  Seriously, 
too,  I  believe  that  will  be  the  only  thing  that  will 
bring  your  schoolma'am  to  Boston,  or  at  least  to  our 
house." 

When  the  last  of  August  came  and  the  Nasons 
returned  to  Boston,  Frank  and  his  mother  were  far 


A  FRIEND    AT    COURT  249 

better  friends,  and  the  most  surprised  one  of  the  four 
was  Edith,  who  was  not  in  the  secret. 

"What  has  come  over  Frank?  "  she  said  to  Blanch 
one  day;  "he  has  never  been  so  well-behaved  before 
in  his  life.  First  he  quit  idling  and  began  to  study 
law  as  if  he  meant  to  be  somebody ;  then  he  deserted 
his  crowd  of  cronies  for  us  and  has  acted  as  if  we 
were  his  sole  care  in  life  ever  since  !  What  is  the 
meaning  of  it,  Blanch  ?  " 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  answered  that  arch 
plotter,  "  and  it  seems  so  good  to  have  him  devoted 
to  us  that  I  am  not  going  to  ask  any  questions.  I 
am  not  disposed  to  act  as  foolish  as  the  boy  did  who 
cut  his  drum  open  to  find  out  what  made  the  noise, 
or  to  find  out  what  Frank's  reasons  are  for  doing  what 
he  ought  to  do,  and  I  would  advise  you  not  to."  All 
of  which  goes  to  show  that  far-seeing  Blanch  was 
capable  of  managing  her  mother  and  sister  equally 
well. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

NEMESIS 

u  And  round  and  round  the  caldron 

The  weird  passions  dance, 
And  the  only  god  they  worship 
Is  the  mystic  god  of  chance." 

THE  last  day  of  August  dawned  fair  in  busy  Boston. 
Summer  sojourners  were  returning.  John  Nason's 
store  was  filled  with  new  fall  styles ;  the  shoppers 
were  crowding  the  streets,  and  the  hustling,  bustling 
life  of  a  great  city  was  at  flood  tide.  Albert  Page, 
full  of  business,  was  in  his  office,  and  Frank  Nason 
was  studying  hard  again,  cheered  by  a  new  and  sweet 
ray  of  hope.  Small  fortunes  were  being  won  and  lost 
on  State  Street,  and  in  one  smoke-polluted  broker's 
office  Nicholas  Frye  sat  watching  the  price  of  wheat. 
The  September  option  opened  that  day  at  seventy- 
eight  and  one-quarter,  rose  to  seventy-nine,  fell  to 
seventy-six  and  seven-eighths,  rose  to  seventy-eight 
and  then  dropped  back  to  seventy-six.  He  had  mar 
gined  his  holdings  to  seventy-one,  and  if  it  fell  to  that 


NEMESIS  251 

price  his  sixty  thousand  dollars  would  be  gone  and 
he  —  ruined.  For  many  nights  he  had  had  but  little 
sleep,  and  that  made  hideous  by  dreams  filled  with  the 
unceasing  whir  and  click,  click,  click  of  the  ticker. 
At  times  he  had  dreamed  that  a  tape-like  snake  with 
endless  coils  was  twining  itself  about  him.  He  was 
worn  and  weary  with  the  long  nervous  strain  and 
misery  of  seeing  his  fortune  slowly  clipped  away  by 
the  clicker's  tick  that  had  come  to  sound  like  the 
teeth  of  so  many  little  devils  snapping  at  him.  To 
let  his  holdings  go,  he  could  not,  and,  lured  on  and  on 
by  the  broker's  daily  uttered  assertion  that  "  wheat 
could  not  go  much  lower,  but  must  have  a  rally  soon," 
he  had  kept  putting  up  margins.  Now  all  he  could 
possibly  raise  was  in  the  broker's  hands,  and  when 
that  was  gone,  all  was  lost. 

Frye  sat  and  watched  the  blackboard  where  the  un 
even  columns  of  quotations  looked  like  so  many  little 
legs  ever  growing  longer.  Around  him  were  a  score 
of  other  men  — 110,  insane  fools  —  watching  the  figures 
that  either  made  them  curse  their  losses  or  gloat  over 
their  gains.  No  one  spoke  to  another ;  no  one  cared 
whether  another  won  or  lost  in  the  great  gambling 
game  that  daily  ruins  its  thousands. 

It  was  the  caldron  filled  with  lies,  false  reports, 
fictitious  sales,  and  the  hope  and  lust  of  gain  that 


252  UNCLE    TERRY 

boiled  and  bubbled,  heated  by  the  fires  of  hell.  And 
ever  around  that  caldron  the  souls  of  men  were 
circling,  cursing  their  losses  and  gloating  over  their 
gains. 

And  Frye  was  muttering  curses. 

At  eleven  o'clock  wheat  stood  at  seventy-five  and 
one-half;  at  eleven-thirty,  seventy-four  and  seven- 
eighths  ;  at  twelve,  seventy-four. 

Frye  arose,  and  going  to  a  nearby  room,  all  mirrors 
and  plate-glass,  called  at  the  bar  for  brandy.  Two 
full  glasses  he  tossed  off  like  so  much  water,  and  then 
returned  to  his  watching. 

Wheat  was  seventy-three  and  three-quarters  ! 

But  the  fickle  goddess  of  chance  loves/to  sport  with 
her  victims,  and  wheat  rose  to  seventy-five  again; 
then  fell  to  seventy-four,  and  vibrated  between  that 
and  seventy-five  for  an  hour.  Frye  was  growing  desper 
ate,  and  his  deep-set  yellow  eyes  glared  like  those  of 
a  cat  at  night.  The  market  closed  at  two.  It  was 
now  one-thirty,  and  wheat  was  seventy-three  and 
three-quarters. 

Frye  went  out  again,  and  two  more  glasses  of 
brandy  were  added  to  his  delirium. 

Wheat  was  now  seventy-three  and  one-half ! 

Then,  as  once  more  he  fixed  his  vulture  eyes  on 
that  long  column  of  figures,  at  the  foot  of  which  was 


NEMESIS  253 

seventy-three  and  one-half,  the  devil's  teeth  began  a 
more  vicious  snapping,  and  so  fast  came  the  quotations 
that  the  boy  could  no  longer  record  them.  Instead, 
he  called  them  out  in  a  drawling  sing-song : 

"  September  wheat  now  seventy-three,  —  the  half,  — 
five-eighths,  —  a  half, —  five-eighths  split,  — now  a  half, 

—  three-eighths,  —  a  quarter,  —  seventy-three  !  *'  Frye 
set  his  feet  hard  together,  and  clinched  his  hands. 
Only  two  cents  in  price  stood  between  him  and  the 
loss  of  all  his  twenty  years'  saving.     All  the  lies  he 
had  told  for  miserable  gain,  all  the  miserly  self-de 
nial  he  had  practised,  all  the  clients  he  had  cheated 
and  robbed,  all  the  hatred  he  had  won  from  others 
availed  him  not.      His  contemptible  soul  and  his  life, 
almost,  now  hung  by  a  miserly  two  cents. 

Once  more  the  devil's  teeth  clicked,  and  once  more 
the  boy's  drawl  rose  above  the  ticker's  whir. 

"  Seventy- three,  —  a  quarter,  —  an  eighth,  —  sev 
enty-three,  —  now  seventy-two  seven-eighths,  —  three- 
quarters,  —  five-eighths,  —  three-quarters  split,  —  now 
five-eighths,  —  a  half,  —  a  half." 

And  now  pandemonium  was  raging  in  the  Chicago 
wheat  pit,  and  the  ticker's  teeth  clicked  like  mad. 

44  Seventy-two,  —  a  half,  —  a  half,  —  three-eighths, 

—  a  half,  —  three-eighths,  —  a    quarter,  —  seventy- 


254  UNCLE   TERRY 

Cold  beads  of  sweat  gathered  on  Frye's  forehead. 
One  cent  more  and  he  was  ruined  ! 

Again  the  ticker  buzzed  like  a  mad  hornet,  and 
again  the  devil's  teeth  snapped. 

"  September  wheat  now  seventy-one  seven-eighths, 
—  seven-eighths,  —  three-quarters,  —  seven-eighths 
split,  —  now  the  three-quarter,  —  five-eighths,  —  a 
half,  —  a  half,  —  five-eighths,  —  a  half,  —  a  half 
again,  —  three-eighths,  —  a  quarter,  —  an  eighth,  — 
a  quarter,  —  an  eighth,  —  a  quarter,  —  an  eighth,  — 
an  eighth,  —  a  quarter  split,  —  an  eighth,  — 

"  SEVENTY-ONE  ! ! !  " 

FRYE  WAS  RUINED. 

He  gave  one  low  moan,  the  first,  last,  and  only  one 
during  those  three  long  weeks  of  agony ! 

A  few  who  sat  near  heard  it,  but  did  not  even  look 
at  him,  so  lost  were  they  to  all  human  feeling.  The 
devil's  teeth  kept  snapping,  the  endless  coils  of  tape 
kept  unwinding ;  the  boy  continued  his  drawl,  but 
Frye  paid  no  heed.  Only  those  spider-legs  on  the 
wall  seemed  kicking  at  him,  and  that  fatal  seventy-one, 
one,  one  kept  ringing  in  his  ears.  He  arose,  and  stag 
gered  out  into  that  palace  of  glass  again  and  swallowed 
more  brandy.  Then  jostling  many,  but  seeing  no 
one,  he,  with  bowed  head,  made  his  way  to  his  office, 
opened,  entered,  and  locked  the  door,  and  sat  down. 


NEMESIS  255 

Whir-r-r-r-r  I ! ! 

Click,  click,  click ! ! ! 

Seventy-one,  one,  one !  It  was  the  last  he  heard, 
and  then  he  sank  forward  on  his  desk  in  a  drunken 
stupor. 

At  this  moment  Uncle  Terry,  with  Frye's  letter  in 
his  pocket,  and  righteous  wrath  in  his  heart,  was 
speeding  toward  Boston  as  fast  as  steam  could  carry 
him. 

The  clear  incisive  strokes  of  an  adjacent  clock  pro 
claiming  midnight  awoke  Frye.  He  raised  his  head, 
and  in  that  almost  total  darkness  for  a  moment  knew 
not  where  he  was.  Then,  ere  the  echoes  of  those 
funeral  knells  died  away,  he  arose,  lit  the  two  gas- 
jets,  and  sat  down. 

Seventy-one,  one,  one  ! ! 

They  brought  it  all  back  to  him,  and  now,  alone  in 
his  misery,  he  groaned  aloud,  and  with  his  despair  came 
the  dread  of  the  morrow,  when  he,  the  once  proud 
and  defiant  man,  must  go  forth  crushed,  broken,  de 
spairing,  penniless ! 

All  would  know  it,  and  all  would  rejoice.  Out  of 
the  many  that  hated  or  feared  him,  not  one  would  feel 
a  grain  of  pity,  and  well  he  knew  it.  He  could  almost 
see  the  looks  of  scorn  on  their  faces,  and  hear  them  say, 
"  Glad  of  it !  Served  him  right,  the  old  reprobate  !  " 


256  UNCLE  TERRY 

Then  his  past  life  came  back  to  him.  He  had  never 
married,  and  since  he  had  looked  down  upon  his  dead 
mother's  face,  no  woman's  hand  had  sought  his  with 
tenderness.  All  his  long  life  of  grasping  greed  had 
been  spent  in  money-getting  and  money-saving.  No 
sense  of  right  or  justice  had  ever  restrained  him ;  but 
only  the  fear  of  getting  caught  had  kept  him  from 
downright  stealing.  Year  after  year  he  had  added  to 
his  hoard,  carefully  invested  it,  and  now  in  a  few  days 
of  desperate  dread  it  had  all  been  swept  away ! 

Then  perhaps  the  memory  of  that  mother,  as  he  had 
seen  her  last,  with  pallid  face  and  folded  arms,  brought 
to  him  the  first  and  only  good  impulse  he  ever  felt, 
for  he  took  a  pen  and  wrote  a  brief  but  valuable  let 
ter.  Then  he  went  to  his  tall  safe,  opened  both  doors, 
and  taking  a  small,  flat  packet  from  an  inner  till,  re 
turned  to  his  desk,  placed  that  and  the  letter  in  one 
long  envelope,  and  sealed  and  directed  it. 

And  now  all  the  misery  and  despair  of  his  situation 
returned  with  intense  force,  and  as  it  crushed  him 
down,  obliterating  every  vestige  of  hope,  once  more 
his  head  sank  forward  on  the  desk  and  he  groaned 
aloud.  For  a  long  time  he  remained  thus,  living  over 
the  past  three  weeks  of  agony,  and  then  there  smote 
upon  his  tortured  nerves  the  sound  of  many  clocks 
striking  one.  It  sounded  as  if  they  were  mocking 


NEMESIS  257 

him,  and  from  far  and  near  —  some  harsh  and  sharp, 
some  faint  in  the  distance  —  came  that  fatal  one,  one, 
one !  He  arose  and,  going  to  a  small  locker  in  his 
room,  grasped  a  half-filled  bottle  of  liquor  and  drank 
deeply.  It  only  made  matters  worse,  for  now  an  un 
canny  delirium  crept  into  his  rum-charged  brain  and 
he  fancied  himself  looking  into  an  open  grave  and 
there,  at  the  bottom,  lay  a  wasted  woman's  body,  the 
face  shrunken  and  pallid  and  teeth  showing  in  mock 
ing  grin.  Then  he  seemed  to  be  lying  there  himself, 
looking  up,  and  peering  down  at  him  were  the  faces 
of  many  men,  some  bearing  the  impress  of  hate,  and 
some  of  derisive  laughter. 

And  one  was  Albert  Page,  with  a  look  of  scorn. 

He  arose  again,  and  taking  a  letter-opener,  crowded 
bits  of  paper  into  the  keyhole  of  the  door  and  up  and 
down  the  crack.  Then  he  closed  the  one  window, 
turned  out  the  two  gas-jets,  and  opened  the  stop-cocks 
again.  An  odor  of  gas  soon  pervaded  the  room  into 
which  came  only  a  faint  light  from  the  State  House 
dome.  And  now  a  more  hideous  hallucination  came 
to  that  hopeless,  despairing  man,  for  between  the  open 
doors  of  his  tall  safe  stood  the  wasted  form  of  his 
mother!  Her  gray  hair  was  combed  flat  on  either 
side  of  her  ashen  face,  a  gray  dress  covered  her  at 
tenuated  frame,  and  her  arms  were  folded  cross-wise 


258  UNCLE  TEEB5T 

over  her  bosom  as  he  had  seen  her  last,  but  now  her 
eyes  were  wide  open,  yellow,  and  glassy.  Then  slowly, 
very  slowly,  she  seemed  to  move  toward  him,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his,  piercing  his  very  soul.  Nearer, 
nearer,  nearer  she  came,  until  now,  rising  above  him, 
she  stooped  as  if  to  touch  his  lips  with  the  kiss  of 
death.  He  could  not  breathe  or  move,  conscious  only 
that  an  awful  horror  was  upon  him  and  a  tiny  mallet 
beating  on  his  brain. 

Then  that  hideous,  deathly,  pallid  face,  cold  and 
clammy,  was  pressed  upon  his,  the  faint  light  seemed 
to  fade  into  darkness,  and  he  knew  no  more. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

THE   GLAD   HAND 

ALBERT  PAGE  had  just  finished  reading  his  morn 
ing  mail  the  first  day  of  September,  when  his  office 
door  opened  and  he  saw  the  genial  face  of  Uncle 
Terry  enter. 

"  Well,  well !  "  exclaimed  Albert,  springing  to  his 
feet  and  advancing  to  meet  his  caller.  "How  are 
you,  Uncle  Terry  ?  "  Then,  as  he  seized  that  man's 
hand  in  both  of  his,  and  shook  it  heartily,  he  added 
in  one  breath,  "  How  is  your  good  wife  and  Telly, 
and  when  did  you  arrive,  and  why  didn't  you  let  me 
know  so  I  could  meet  you  ?  " 

u  Wai,"  answered  Uncle  Terry,  seating  himself,  "  I 
got  in  purty  late  last  night  an'  put  up  at  a  tavern 
near  the  depo." 

"  But  why  didn't  you  write  or  wire  me,  so  I  could 
have  met  you  at  the  train  and  taken  care  of  you  ?  " 
asked  Albert. 

"  The  fact  on't  is,"  replied  Uncle  Terry,  removing 
his  hat  and  laying  it  on  the  floor  beside  him,  "I've 


260  UNCLE   TERKY 

allus  pulled  my  own  boat  in  this  world,  an'  it  sorter 
goes  agin  the  grain  now  to  hist  the  oars  over  to 
'nother  fellow."  Then  reaching  into  his  pocket, 
drawing  out  a  letter,  and  handing  it  to  Albert,  he 
added,  "  'Bout  two  weeks  ago  I  got  this  'ere  from 
that  dum  thief  Frye.  I  was  'spectin'  the  gov'ment 
boat  'long  most  every  day,  and  so  couldn't  cum  any 
sooner." 

Albert  read  the  letter  and  gave  a  low  whistle. 
"  Frye  must  have  been  either  very  hard  up  when  he 
wrote,"  he  said,  "  or  else  the  other  parties  are  crowd 
ing  him  and  this  is  his  last  effort  to  fleece  you.  I 
have  heard  that  he  has  been  speculating  in  wheat 
lately,  and  it  may  be  he  has  got  caught.  I  hope  so, 
for  it  will  be  easier  for  us  to  bring  him  to  terms.  I 
have  my  plans  all  mapped  out  and  I  think  we  had 
best  go  for  him  at  once,  while  he  is  likely  to  be  in 
his  office."  Then  calling  to  Frank,  and  rapidly 
writing  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars,  while  that 
surprised  young  man  was  shaking  hands  with  Uncle 
Terry,  he  continued :  "  Please  go  up  to  the  station, 
Frank,  and  get  an  officer  at  once,  and  step  into  the 
Maverick  Bank  on  your  way  back  and  get  this 
check  cashed.  We  will  go  prepared  for  the  worst." 

When  Frank  had  gone  Uncle  Terry  said,  "  There 
wa'n't  no  need  o'  yer  gettin'  money,  Mr.  Page ;  I've 


THE   GLAD   HAND  261 

brung  three  hundred,  which  is  all  the  cut-throat  asked 
fur." 

44  We  may  need  more,  nevertheless,"  answered 
Albert,  44and  as  I  wish  to  make  but  one  visit  to 
Frye's  office,  it's  best  to  go  prepared.  He  may  ask 
more  now."  Then  after  filling  out  a  writ  of  re 
plevin  he  added,  44  Excuse  me  a  moment,  Mr.  Terry ; 
I  will  be  back  soon." 

He  was  absent  perhaps  five  minutes,  and  then  Uncle 
Terry  was  astonished  to  see  a  strange  man  enter  from 
an  inner  room.  He  wore  a  full  black  beard,  smoked 
glasses,  broad  slouch  hat,  and  a  clerical  coat,  which 
was  buttoned  close  to  his  chin.  Uncle  Terry  looked 
at  him  in  surprise,  waiting  for  the  stranger  to  speak. 

44  Don't  you  know  me,  Uncle  Terry?  "  said  the  new 
arrival. 

44  By  gosh !  it's  you,  Mr.  Page,"  exclaimed  the  old 
man,  44or  else  I'm  tuck  with  a  change  o'  heart." 
Then  he  added  with  a  laugh,  44  I'd  never  known  ye 
'cept  for  yer  voice." 

44  I'm  all  right,  then,  I  guess,"  said  Albert,  "  and 
now  for  my  plan.  When  the  officer  comes  we  four 
will  go  at  once  to  Frye's  office.  You  will  go  in  alone 
and  open  matters ;  contrive  to  leave  the  door  ajar,  and 
when  you  get  to  talking  the  rest  of  us  will  creep  up 
and  listen.  And  here  is  where  your  wits  must  work 


262  UNCLE   TBRKY 

well.  Act  as  though  you  did  not  suspect  anything 
wrong,  but  tell  him  you  are  discouraged  and  have  put 
out  all  the  money  you  can ;  also  that  you  are  poor 
and  can't  afford  to  waste  any  more  on  what  you  be 
lieve  to  be  a  hopeless  case.  Then  ask  him  to  return 
you  the  trinkets  you  gave  him,  as  the  girl  values 
them  highly,  and  right  here  is  where  you  must  con 
trive  to  get  Frye  to  admit  he  has  these  trinkets. 
Most  likely  he  will  refuse  to  give  them  up  until  his 
fee  is  paid,  and  he  may  ask  quite  a  sum.  If  you  can 
settle  the  matter  by  paying  him  one  or  two  hundred 
dollars  I  should  advise  it,  but  not  more.  If  it  comes 
to  his  refusal  we  will  walk  in  at  that  point  and  the 
officer  will  serve  the  writ.  We  can  search  his  prem 
ises,  and  even  make  him  open  his  safe,  and  if  we  find 
what  we  want,  we  will  take  it.  If  not,  we  are  check 
mated,  and  must  find  who  employed  him  and  appeal 
to  them." 

When  Frank  and  the  officer  returned,  and  the 
former  had  also  donned  a  disguise,  the  four  proceeded 
at  once  to  Frye's  office.  It  was  early,  and  none  of  the 
other  office  occupants  on  that  floor  had  arrived.  As 
agreed,  Uncle  Terry  knocked  at  Frye's  door  alone, 
but  no  one  answered.  He  knocked  again ;  still  no 
answer.  He  tried  the  door ;  it  was  locked.  Then  he 
knocked  harder ;  no  reply.  Then  he  stepped  back  to 


THE   GLAD   HAND  263 

where  the  others  were  waiting.  "  Thar's  nobody  in 
thar,"  he  whispered,  "  or  if  thar  is  he's  asleep  !  "  Al 
bert  went  forward  and  listened  ;  there  was  no  sound. 
Then  he  stooped  and  tried  to  look  through  the  key 
hole  ;  it  was  plugged. 

"  I  smell  gas  coming  out  of  the  keyhole,"  he  whis 
pered  to  the  officer ;  "  you  go  and  try  it." 

The  officer  did  so.  Then  he  took  out  a  pocket 
knife  and  thrust  the  blade  through  the  keyhole  and 
peeped  in.  Then  he  beckoned  to  Albert. 

"  Something's  wrong  in  there,  Mr.  Page,"  he  said. 
"  I  can  see  a  man's  legs,  and  the  gas  is  coming  out  of 
that  keyhole  enough  to  choke  you.  We'd  best  call 
the  janitor." 

That  official  was  found,  and  he  too  peeped. 

"  I  noticed  a  light  in  Frye's  office  when  I  retired 
last  night,"  he  said ;  "  depend  upon  it,  there  is  some 
thing  wrong."  Then  turning  to  the  officer  he  added, 
"  You  are  an  officer  of  the  law,  and  as  I  am  in  charge 
of  this  building  I  give  you  permission  to  open  Frye's 
door  on  the  score  of  public  safety." 

The  burly  officer  waited  for  no  further  orders,  but, 
grasping  the  knob,  threw  his  whole  weight  against 
the  door,  and  it  gave  way.  A  cry  of  surprise  escaped 
him,  and  as  the  rest  crowded  up  they  saw  a  hideous 
sight.  Frye  was  sitting  in  his  chair  with  head 


264  UNCLE  TERRY 

thrown  back  staring  at  the  ceiling,  and  with  mouth 
and  eyes  wide  open  !  The  room  was  stifling  with 
gas,  and  the  officer  opened  the  window.  In  doing  so 
he  noticed  the  two  stop-cocks  were  opened  and  he 
turned  them  off.  Then  he  returned  to  the  hall. 
When  the  room  was  fit  to  breathe  in  again,  all  four 
entered,  and  the  officer  laid  his  hand  upon  Frye's 
face. 

"  Dead,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and  has  been  for  hours  !  " 

Then  as  the  others  crowded  up  to  gaze  at  the  face, 
which  bore  a  look  of  inexpressible  agony,  Albert 
noticed  an  envelope  on  Frye's  desk  directed  to  Silas 
Terry.  He  quietly  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  joined 
with  the  rest  in  a  search  of  the  room. 

"It  looks  like  a  case  of  suicide,"  observed  the 
officer,  "  door  locked,  keyhole  and  cracks  plugged,  win 
dow  shut,  and  two  gas-burners  open  !  Safe  unlocked 
and  wide  open,  and  here's  a  till  with  money  in  it ! " 

Then  taking  up  a  bundle  of  papers  that  lay  in  this 
till  and  examining  them  he  gave  a  long  whistle  and 
exclaimed,  "Here's  a  contract  for  fifty  thousand 
bushels  of  wheat  bought  in  Chicago  at  ninety-eight 
cents,  and  wheat  closed  yesterday  at  seventy-one  ! 
And  here  are  two  more  lots,  one  for  one  hundred 
thousand  bushels  !  "  Then  handing  the  certificates  to 
Albert  he  added,  "  Old  Nick  has  been  bulling  wheat, 


THE   GLAD   HAND  265 

and  if  he  has  been  holding  on  to  these  purchases  for 
the  last  three  weeks,  I  don't  wonder  he  has  taken 
gas  !  "  And  then,  as  a  crowd  had  gathered,  and  were 
gazing  at  the  ghastly  staring  face  of  Frye,  made  ten 
times  more  hideous  in  death  than  in  life,  he  added, 
"  In  the  name  of  the  law  I  must  close  the  door  and 
notify  a  coroner." 

When  Albert,  with  Uncle  Terry  and  Frank, 
reached  his  office  he  drew  the  letter  he  had  taken 
from  Frye's  desk  out  of  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to 
Uncle  Terry.  "  It  was  directed  to  you,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  thought  best  to  bring  it  away." 

When  the  old  man  opened  it  he  exclaimed,  "  By 
the  great  eternal  jumpin'  Jehosaphat,  if  here  ain't  the 
hull  o'  the  things  we  want  so  bad,  and  a  letter  to 
some  furriners  !  Here,  you  read  it,  Mr.  Page ;  the 
writin's  wussen  crow  tracks  in  the  mud." 

The  letter  was  as  follows  : 

MESSRS.  THYGESON  &  COMPANY,  Stockholm: 

GENTLEMEN  :  I  have  good  and  sufficient  reason  to  believe 
an  heir  to  the  estate  in  your  hands  exists  in  the  person  of  a 
young  woman  now  living  with  one  Silas  Terry,  a  lighthouse 
keeper  on  Southport  Island,  Maine,  and  known  as  Telly  Terry. 
This  person,  when  a  babe,  was  saved  from  a  wreck  by  this 
man  Terry  and  by  him  cared  for  and  brought  up.  A  report  of 
the  wreck  and  the  saving  of  one  life  (the  child's)  was  made  at 


266  UNCLE  TERRY 

the  time  by  this  man  Terry,  and  is  now  on  file  in  Washington. 
As  I  am  going  away  on  a  long  journey,  I  turn  this  matter  over 
to  you  for  further  investigation,  and  subscribe  myself, 

Kespectfully  yours, 

NICHOLAS  FRYE. 

When  Albert  had  finished  the  reading  of  this 
important  letter  aloud  he  grasped  Uncle  Terry's 
hand  and  exclaimed :  "  Telly's  heritage  is  saved  for 
her,  and  for  that  I  forgive  Frye  for  all  the  wrongs  he 
has  done  you  and  me." 

As  for  Uncle  Terry  he  remarked,  "  Wai,  he  cost  me 
four  hundred,  but  I'll  forgive  him  that  now,  an' 
mighty  glad  to  do  it."  Then  he  added  with  a 
chuckle,  "  He  must  'a'  had  a  sudden  change  o'  heart, 
and  if  the  Widder  Leach  hears  on't  she'll  swear  'twas 
the  workings  o'  the  Lord  on  a  sinner's  mind.  He 
looked  as  though  he'd  seen  some  awful  sight." 

When  the  tragic  end  of  Frye  had  been  duly  com 
mented  upon,  Albert  said  to  Uncle  Terry,  "  Take 
those  valuables  back  with  you,  but  leave  me  the 
letter  and  I  will  attend  to  the  rest."  Then  he  added, 
"  You  are  my  guest  as  long  as  you  can  stay  in  Boston, 
and  now  we  can  go  sight-seeing  with  a  light  heart." 

How  earnestly  Albert  set  about  entertaining  Uncle 
Terry,  and  how  thoroughly  the  old  man  enjoyed  it 
all,  need  not  be  enlarged  upon.  When  two  days 


THE   GLAD   HAND  267 

later  he  was  ready  to  depart,  Albert  handed  him  a 
large  package  containing  a  silk  dress  pattern  for 
Aunt  Lissy,  a  woolen  one  for  Mrs.  Leach,  and  a  com 
plete  artist's  outfit  for  Telly.  "  With  these  things," 
he  said,  "  go  my  best  regards  for  those  they  are  for, 
and  among  them  are  the  photographs  of  two  sketches 
I  made  when  I  was  with  you  that  I  want  you  to  ask 
Miss  Telly  to  paint  for  me." 

When  she  opened  her  package  she  found  two 
sketches  of  herself,  one  leaning  against  a  rock  with  her 
face  resting  on  her  hand,  and  the  other  sitting  beside 
a  flower-decked  boat  with  a  broad  sun-hat  in  her  lap. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

THE   DEMNITION   GRIND 

LIFE  should  not  be  all  work,  neither  can  it  be  all 
play  and  be  enjoyable,  as  Frank  Nason  found  to  his 
sorrow.  Whether  a  realizing  sense  of  the  scant  re 
spect  Alice  Page  had  for  an  idler,  or  his  own  experi 
ence  in  that  role,  opened  his  eyes  first,  is  hard  to  say. 
It  is  likely  that  both  had  weight,  and  it  is  not  to  his 
discredit  if  the  possible  approbation  of  Alice  was  the 
sole  cause  of  his  changed  ideas.  That  he  wished  her 
to  feel  it  was,  is  certain,  as  the  tone  of  his  letters  showed. 
In  one  which  he  wrote  soon  after  his  return  to  Boston 
he  said,  "  My  mother,  and  in  fact  all  my  people,  seem 
to  think  so  much  more  of  me  since  I  have  set  about 
fitting  myself  for  a  profession.  Father  says  he  is 
growing  proud  of  me,  and  that  pleases  me  best  of  all, 
for  he  is  and  always  has  been  my  best  friend.  Of 
course,  I  think  the  world  of  Blanch,  and  she  seems  to 
think  I  am  the  best  fellow  in  the  world.  Little  do 
any  of  them  know  or  even  guess  that  it  is  you  for 
whom  I  am  working,  and  always  with  the  hope  that 


THE  DEMNITION  GRIND  269 

you  will  deem  me  worthy  of  the  great  prize  you  well 
know  I  am  striving  for.  How  many  times  I  recall 
every  moment  of  that  one  short  hour  on  the  old  mill- 
pond,  and  all  that  made  it  sacred  to  me,  no  one  can 
tell.  I  go  out  little  except  to  escort  mother  and  the 
girls  to  the  theatre  once  in  a  while,  and  so  anxious  am 
I  to  be  able  to  pass  an  examination,  I  often  go  to  the 
office  and  read  law  till  midnight." 

When  this  effusion  reached  Alice  the  mountains 
around  Sandgate  were  just  putting  on  their  autumn 
glory  of  color,  and  that  night  when  she  sat  on  the 
porch  and  heard  the  katydids  in  the  fast  thinning 
foliage  of  the  elms  she  had  what  she  called  an  old- 
fashioned  fit  of  the  blues.  And  how  lonely  it  was 
there,  too! 

Aunt  Susan,  never  a  talkative  person,  sat  close,  but 
as  dumb  as  a  graven  image ;  no  house  near,  and  only 
the  twinkling  lights  of  several  the  other  side  of  the 
valley  visible.  On  a  knoll  just  below  them  she 
knew  were  a  few  score  of  white  headstones,  among 
them  her  mother's,  and  when  there  was  a  moon  she 
could  see  them  plainly.  It  is  during  the  lonely  hours 
of  our  lives  that  we  see  ourselves  best,  and  this  quiet 
evening — no  more  quiet  than  many  others,  perhaps, 
but  seemingly  so  to  Alice  —  she  saw  herself  and  her 
possible  future  as  it  seemed  to  be.  Every  word  of 


270  UNCLE  TERRY 

her  lover's  letter  had  been  an  emissary  of  both  joy  and 
sorrow  —  joy  that  he  was  so  devoted  to  her,  and  sorrow 
because  she  felt  that  an  impassable  barrier  separated 
them.  "  He  will  forget  me  in  a  few  months,"  she 
said  to  herself,  "  and  by  the  time  he  has  won  his  cov 
eted  law  degree  his  scheming  mother  will  have  some 
eligible  girl  all  ready  for  him  to  fall  in  love  with.  As 
for  me,  she  will  never  have  the  chance  to  frown  at 
me,  for  even  if  Blanch  begs  I  would  never  Bet  foot  in 
her  house  I  "  When  her  feelings  had  carried  her  up 
to  this  point  she  arose,  and,  going  into  the  parlor,  be 
gan  playing.  Her  piano  was  the  best  and  about  the 
only  companion  she  had,  and  quickly  responded  to  her 
moods.  And  now  what  did  it  tell  ?  She  played;  but 
every  chord  was  a  minor  one,  full  of  the  pathos  of 
tears  and  sorrow.  She  sang;  but  every  song  that 
came  to  her  lips  carried  the  same  refrain,  and  told 
only  of  hungry  hearts  and  unanswered  love.  And 
last  and  worst  of  all,  almost  insensibly  her  fingers 
strayed  to  the  chords  of  one  well-remembered  song. 
One  verse  only  she  sang,  and  when  the  last  pathetic 
line  was  ended  she  arose  and  with  a  "  What  a  fool  I 
am  to  care,  anyway  I  "  muttered  to  herself,  went  back 
to  the  porch  where  her  aunt  was  sitting.  And  then, 
as  the  moon  came  up  from  behind  the  mountain,  flood 
ing  the  narrow  valley  with  pale  light,  in  spite  of  her- 


THE  DEMNITION   GRIND  271 

self  her  eyes  strayed  to  that  little  knoll  where  the 
white  stones  showed  clear  and  distinct.  It  was  the 
last  straw,  and  going  to  her  aunt  and  kneeling,  she 
bowed  her  head  in  that  good  old  soul's  lap,  and  burst 
into  tears.  It  may  be  that  the  hand  which  stroked 
her  fair  head  at  this  outbreak  recalled  her  mother's, 
for  she  only  sobbed  the  harder.  It  did  not  last  long, 
however,  and  when  the  storm  was  over  she  arose  and 
said  : 

"  There,  auntie,  I've  been  spoiling  for  a  good  cry 
all  day,  and  now  I've  had  it  and  feel  better." 

But  did  she?  Let  those  who  can  put  themselves 
in  her  place,  with  her  proud  spirit  and  loving  heart, 
answer  the  question. 

And  here  it  is  time  and  fit  to  speak  of  her  brother, 
toward  whom  her  heart  had  always  turned  when  in 
trouble,  and  not  in  vain.  Of  the  jest  that  Frank  had 
made  regarding  the  island  girl  Albert  had  fallen  in 
love  with,  she  thought  but  little.  That  he  might 
marry  in  due  time  she  expected  as  a  matter  of  course  ; 
that  it  would  make  any  difference  in  his  feelings 
towards  her  she  did  not  for  one  moment  consider. 
Now  she  fell  to  thinking  what  a  void  it  would  make 
in  her  life  if  his  thoughts  and  affection  were  centred 
elsewhere.  Then  she  began  wondering  why  he  had 
failed  to  write  as  often  as  usual  during  the  past  six 


272  UNCLE   TERRY 

weeks.  She  had  known  his  plans  for  the  yachting- 
trip  and  imagined  his  letter  announcing  its  failure 
and  his  return  to  work  an  expression  of  disappoint 
ment.  Since  then  he  had  written  but  once,  telling  her 
that  he  was  overwhelmed  with  business  and  enclosing 
a  check,  but  failing  to  enclose  any  but  the  briefest 
expression  of  love. 

Life  with  Alice  was  at  best  a  lonesome  one,  and 
Sunday,  with  its  simple  services  in  the  village  church, 
the  singing  in  the  choir,  and  pleasant  nods  from  all 
she  met,  the  only  break  in  its  monotony.  Now 
during  summer  vacation  time  it  was  worse  than 
ever,  and  she  began  counting  the  days  until  school 
opened  again.  Once,  with  Aunt  Susan  for  company, 
she  had  visited  the  old  mill-pond,  and  rowing  the 
boat  herself,  had  gathered  an  ample  supply  of  lilies, 
only  to  come  home  so  depressed  she  did  not  speak 
once  during  the  four-mile  drive.  She  had  written 
Frank  an  account  of  the  trip,  but  failed  to  mention 
that  she  had  landed  at  a  certain  point  and  sat  on  the 
bank  and  shed  a  few  tears  while  Aunt  Susan  waited 
in  the  boat  and  sorted  the  lilies.  She  had  enclosed  a 
wee  little  lily  bud  in  this  letter,  but  not  a  word  by 
which  he  could  infer  that  her  heart  was  very  hungry 
for  —  some  one. 

But  all  things,  and  all  series  of  days,  be  they  filled 


THE   DEMNITION  GKIND  273 

with  joy  or  sorrow,  come  to  an  end,  and  so  did  the 
lonely  vacation  days  of  Alice.  When  the  school 
gathered  once  more,  and  the  daily  round  of  simple 
recitations  began,  she  realized  as  never  before  how 
blessed  a  thing  it  is  in  this  world  that  we  can  have 
occupation.  And  even  more  blessed  to  Alice  Page, 
whose  proud  heart  was  a  little  hungry  for  love. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

OLD    AND    YOUNG 

A  WEEK  after  Uncle  Terry's  return  from  Boston 
he  asked  Telly  to  go  with  him  on  his  daily  drive  to 
the  head  of  the  island.  He  had  described  the  excit 
ing  incidents  of  his  trip  both  to  his  wife  and  Telly, 
and,  feeling  obliged  to  do  so,  had  told  them  that  Mr. 
Page  had  taken  charge  of  the  case  and  would  com 
municate  with  him  when  anything  definite  was 
learned.  He  had  noticed  that  Telly  had  seemed 
unusually  cheerful  ever  since,  and  likewise  more 
affectionate.  Also  —  a  fact  that  did  not  escape  his 
observant  eyes  —  that  she  had  at  once  set  about  paint 
ing  the  two  sketches  Albert  had  sent. 

"  The  leaves  is  turnin'  purty  fast,"  he  said  to  her 
that  day,  "  an'  I  thought  mebbe  ye'd  like  ter  go  with 
me  an'  take  a  look  at  'em.  They  won't  last  long." 

When  the  two  had  jogged  along  in  almost  silence 
for  a  few  miles  he  said,  pointing  to  a  small  rock  by  the 
roadside,  "  Thar's  whar  I  fust  found  Mr.  Page,  Telly." 

She  did  not  know  it,  but  he  was  watching  her  face 


OLD   AND   YOUNG  275 

closely  as  he  said  it,  and  noted  well  the  look  of 
interest  that  came. 

"I  told  him  that  day,"  he  continued,  chuckling, 
"  that  lawyers  was  mostly  all  thieves,  an'  the  fact  that 
he  didn't  take  it  amiss  went  fur  to  convince  me  he 
was  an  exception.  It's  a  hit  bird  as  allus  flutters. 
From  what  he's  done  an'  the  way  he  behaves  I'm 
thinkin'  more  an'  more  o'  him  the  better  I  know  him, 
an'  I  believe  him  now  to  be  as  honest  an'  square  a 
young  man  as  I  ever  met." 

He  was  covertly  watching  Telly  as  he  said  this, 
but  her  face  remained  impassive.  "  I  think  Mr.  Page 
is  very  nice,"  she  answered  quietly,  "  and  has  a  kind 
heart.  Did  you  know  he  gave  Aunty  Leach  ten  dol 
lars  one  day  when  he  was  here,  and  she  hasn't  done 
praising  him  yet  ?  She  says  it's  a  sure  forerunner  of 
4  a  change  o'  heart,'  and  when  she  got  the  dress  pattern 
the  poor  old  creature  cried." 

Uncle  Terry  was  silent  a  few  moments  while  he 
flicked  at  the  daisies  with  his  whip  as  they  rode  along. 

"  Ye've  had  a  couple  o'  letters  from  him  sense  he 
went  back,  hain't  ye  ?  "  he  asked  finally.  "  I  noticed 
they  was  in  his  writin'."  He  was  still  watching  her 
face  and  noticed  this  time  that  a  faint  color  came. 

"  Yes,  he  wrote  me  he  was  finishing  a  couple  of 
sketches  he  made  here  and  wanted  to  have  me  paint 


276  UNCLE   TERRY 

them  for  him,"  she  replied  quietly.  "  They  are  the 
ones  I  am  working  on  now." 

"That's  all  right,  Telly,"  continued  Uncle  Terry 
briskly,  "I'm  glad  ye're  doin'  it  fur  him,  fur  he's 
doin'  a  good  deal  fur  us  an'  is  likely  to  do  more." 

Nothing  further  was  said  on  the  subject  until  they 
were  on  their  way  back  from  the  head  of  the  island. 
The  sun  was  getting  low,  the  sea  winds  that  rustled 
among  the  scarlet-leaved  oaks,  or  murmured  through 
the  spruce  thickets,  had  almost  fallen  away,  and  just 
as  they  came  to  an  opening  where  the  broad  ocean 
was  visible  he  said: 

"  Did  ye  ever  stop  ter  think,  Telly,  that  Lissy  an' 
me  is  gittin'  purty  well  'long  in  years?  I'm  over 
seventy  now,  an'  in  common  course  o'  things  I  won't 
be  here  many  years  longer." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  quickly.  "What  makes 
you  speak  like  that,  father?  "  she  said ;  "  do  you  want 
to  make  me  blue?"  There  was  a  little  note  of  ten 
derness  in  her  voice  that  did  not  escape  him,  but  he 
answered  promptly : 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,  Telly,  only  I  was 
thinkin'  how  fast  the  years  go  by.  The  leaves  turnin' 
allus  makes  me  think  on't.  It  seems  no  time  sence 
they  fust  came  out  an'  now  they're  goin'  agin!  It 
don't  seem  more'n  two  or  three  years  sence  ye  was  a 


OLD   AND   YOUNG  277 

little  baby  a-pullin'  my  fingers  an'  calliri  me  da-da, 
an'  now  ye'r'  a  woman  grown.  It  won't  be  long 
afore  ye'r'  a-sayin'  '  yes '  to  some  man  as  wants  ye,  an' 
a-goin'  to  a  home  o'  yer  own." 

Telly  turned  to  him  again,  and  this  time  there  was 
a  decided  note  of  pain  in  her  voice :  "  So  that  is  what 
you  are  thinking  of,  father,  is  it?  And  you  are 
imagining  that  some  one  by  the  name  of  Page  is 
likely  to  take  me  away  from  you,  who  are  and  always 
have  been  all  there  is  in  life  for  me !  " 

She  paused,  and  he  noticed  that  two  tears  trembled 
on  her  long  lashes,  to  be  quickly  brushed  away. 
"  Please  do  not  think  me  so  ungrateful,"  she  continued, 
"  as  to  let  any  man  coax  me  away  from  you,  for  no 
man  can.  Here  I  was  cast  ashore,  here  I've  found  a 
home  and  love,  and  here  I  shall  stay  as  long  as  you 
and  mother  live,  and  when  you  two  are  gone,  I  want 
to  go  too  !  "  She  swallowed  a  lump  that  rose  in  her 
throat  and  then  continued :  "  As  for  this  legacy  that 
you  have  worried  about  so  much,  and  I  am  sure  has 
cost  you  a  good  deal,  it  is  yours,  every  penny  of  it, 
and  whether  it  is  big  or  little,  you  are  to  keep  and 
use  it  as  you  need  if  you  love  me.  You  haven't  been 
yourself  for  six  months,  father,  and  all  for  this 
trouble.  I  have  watched  you  more  than  you  think, 
and  wished  many  times  you  had  never  heard  of  it." 


278  UNCLE   TERRY 

She  had  spoken  earnestly  and  truthfully,  and  when 
she  ceased  Uncle  Terry  looked  at  her  a  moment  and 
then  suddenly  dropped  the  reins  and  putting  both 
arms  around  her,  held  her  for  a  moment  and  then 
kissed  her.  It  was  a  surprise  to  her,  and  the  first  of 
its  kind  for  many  years. 

"  I  hain't  bin  thinkin'  'bout  myself  in  this  matter," 
he  observed  as  he  picked  up  the  reins  again  and  chir 
ruped  to  the  old  horse,  "an'  only  am  wan  tin'  ter  see 
ye  provided  fur,  Telly.  As  fur  Mr.  Page  or  any  other 
man,  every  woman  needs  a  purtector  in  this  world,  an' 
when  the  right  'un  comes  along,  don't  let  yer  feelin's 
or  sense  o'  duty  stand  in  the  way  o'  havin'  a  home  o' 
yer  own." 

"  But  you  are  not  anxious  to  be  rid  of  me,  are  you, 
father?"  asked  Telly,  smiling  now  and  gladdened  by 
his  unusual  caress. 

"  Ye  won't  think  that  o'  me,"  he  replied,  as  they 
rattled  down  the  sharp  inclines  into  the  village,  and 
the  ride  came  to  an  end. 

But  she  noticed  after  that  that  he  wanted  her  with 
him  oftener  than  ever. 

Later  when  another  letter  came  for  her  in  a  hand 
that  he  recognized,  he  handed  it  to  her  with  a  smile 
and  immediately  left  her  alone  to  read  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

FIRELIGHT   FLASHES 

THE  halcyon  days  of  autumn,  that  seemed  like  the 
last  sweet  smiles  of  summer,  had  come,  when  one  day 
Albert  packed  a  valise  and  boarded  the  early  morn 
ing  train  for  Maine.  An  insidious  longing  to  see  the 
girl  that  had  been  in  his  thoughts  for  four  months 
had  come  to  him  and  week  by  week  increased  until  it 
had  overcome  business  demands.  Then  he  had  a  little 
good  news  from  Stockholm,  which,  as  he  said  to  him 
self,  would  serve  as  an  excuse.  He  had  told  Frank 
what  his  errand  was  to  Uncle  Terry,  and  to  say  to  any 
that  called  that  he  would  return  in  two  days.  Of 
his  possible  reception  by  Telly  he  was  a  good  deal  in 
doubt.  She  had  written  to  him  in  reply  to  his  letters, 
but  between  each  of  the  simple,  unaffected  lines  all 
he  could  read  was  an  undertone  of  sadness.  That, 
with  a  vivid  recollection  of  what  Uncle  Terry  had 
disclosed,  led  him  to  believe  there  was  some  burden 
on  her  mind  and  that  he  had  or  was  no  part  in  it. 

When  he  grasped  Uncle  Terry's  hand  at  the  boat 
landing  that  old  man's  face  fairly  beamed. 


280  UNCLE   TEKRY 

"  I'm  right  glad  ter  see  ye,"  he  said,  "  an'  so'll  the 
folks  be.  Thar  ain't  much  goin'  on  at  the  Cape  any 
time,  an'  sence  ye  wur  thar  it  seems  wussen  ever." 

"How  are  your  good  wife  and  Telly  these  days?" 
asked  Albert,  "  and  that  odd  old  lady  who  asked  me 
the  first  thing  if  I  was  a  believer  ?  " 

"  Wai,  things  go  on  'bout  as  usual,"  replied  Uncle 
Terry,  as  the  two  drove  away  from  the  landing, 
which  consisted  of  a  narrow  wharf  and  shed,  with  not 
a  house  in  sight.  "  Bascom  does  most  o'  the  talkin' 
out  o'  meetin's,  an'  Oaks  most  on't  in,  'ceptin'  the 
widder,  an'  none  on  'em  say  much  that's  new." 

Albert  smiled,  glad  to  find  Uncle  Terry  in  such 
good  spirits.  "  I  thought  I'd  run  down  and  stay  a 
night  or  so  with  you,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  you  what 
I've  learned  about  the  legacy." 

Uncle  Terry's  face  brightened.  "  Hev  ye  got  good 
news  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  a  way,  yes,"  replied  Albert;  "  this  firm  of  Thy- 
geson  &  Company  write  expressing  surprise  that  Frye 
should  have  given  up  the  case  after  they  had  paid 
him  over  five  \iundred  dollars,  and  ask  that  I  file  a 
bond  with  the  Swedish  consul  in  Washington  before 
they  submit  a  statement  of  the  case  and  inventory 
of  the  estate  to  us.  It  is  only  a  legal  formality,  and 
I  have  complied  with  it," 


FIRELIGHT   FLASHES  281 

"  They  must  'a'  got  skeery  o'  lawyers  frum  dealing 
with  that  dum  thief  Frye,"  put  in  Uncle  Terry,  "  an' 
I  don't  blame  'em.  Did  ye  larn  the  real  cause  o'  his 
suicidin'  ?  " 

"Wheat  speculation,"  answered  Albert.  "He 
dropped  over  sixty  thousand  dollars  in  three  weeks 
and  it  broke  his  miserly  heart.  I  never  want  to  see 
such  a  sight  again  in  my  life  as  his  face  was  that 
morning.  It  haunted  me  for  a  week  after." 

When  Uncle  Terry's  home  was  reached  Albert 
found  a  most  cordial  reception  awaiting  him  from 
Aunt  Lissy,  and  what  pleased  him  far  more,  a  warmly 
welcoming  smile  from  Telly. 

u  I'm  sorry  we  didn't  know  ye  were  comin',"  said 
Aunt  Lissy,  "so't  we  could  be  better  prepared  for 
company." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  consider  me  company,"  re 
plied  Albert ;  "  just  think  I  am  one  of  the  family, 
and  let  it  go  at  that." 

The  long  ride  in  the  crisp  sea  air,  following  the 
scanty  railroad  lunch,  had  given  him  a  most  amazing 
appetite,  and  the  bountiful  supper  of  stewed  chicken 
and  cold  lobster,  not  to  mention  other  good  things  of 
Aunt  Lissy 's  providing,  received  a  hearty  acceptance. 
To  have  these  people  unaffectedly  glad  to  see  him, 
and  so  solicitous  of  his  personal  comfort,  carried  him 


282  UNCLE   TERRY 

back  to  his  own  home  and  mother  of  years  before  in 
a  way  that  touched  him.  He  felt  himself  among 
friends,  and  friends  that  were  glad  to  see  him  and 
meant  to  show  it.  Although  it  was  dark  when 
supper  was  over,  he  could  not  resist  going  out  on 
the  rocks  and  listening  a  few  minutes  to  the  waves 
as  they  beat  upon  them.  There  was  no  moon,  but 
the  lighthouse  gleam  over  his  head  faintly  outlined  the 
swells,  as  one  by  one  they  tossed  their  spray  up  to 
where  he  stood;  back  of  him  the  welcome  glow  of 
Uncle  Terry's  home,  and  all  around  the  wide  ocean, 
dark  and  sombre.  What  a  change  from  the  busy  hive 
of  men  he  had  left  that  morning  !  Only  a  brief  space 
was  he  left  to  contemplate  it,  when  he  heard  a  voice 
just  back  of  him  saying  : 

"  Here's  yer  coat,  Mr.  Page ;  the  night's  gittin' 
chilly,  and  ye  better  put  it  on  'fore  ye  ketch  cold." 

When  the  two  returned  to  the  house  Albert  found 
a  bright  fire  burning  in  the  sitting-room,  and  going  to 
the  entry  way,  where  he  had  left  his  valise,  to  get  a 
box  of  cigars  for  Uncle  Terry,  found  that  the  valise 
had  disappeared. 

"  I  put  yer  things  in  yer  room,"  said  the  old  man, 
and  handing  him  a  lamp  he  added,  "  ye  know  whar 
'tis  now,  I  hope,  so  make  yerself  tew  hum." 

Later,   when    ttiey   were    all    gathered    about   the 


FIRELIGHT  FLASHES  283 

fire,  both  the  "  wimmin  folks "  with  their  sewing, 
and  Uncle  Terry  enjoying  one  of  the  cigars  Albert 
had  brought  him,  the  old  man's  face  gleamed  as 
genial  as  the  firelight.  It  was  a  genuine  treat  to 
him  to  have  this  young  man  for  company,  and  he 
showed  it.  He  told  stories  of  the  sea,  of  storm  and 
shipwreck,  and  curious  experiences  that  had  come  to 
him  during  the  many  years  he  had  dwelt  beside  the 
ocean ;  and  while  Albert  listened,  stealing  occasional 
glances  at  the  sweet-faced  but  plainly  clad  girl  whose 
eyes  were  bent  upon  her  sewing,  the  neighboring 
waves  kept  up  their  monotone,  and  the  fire  sparkled 
and  glowed  with  a  ruddy  light. 

"  Don't  you  ever  get  tired  of  hearing  the  waves  beat 
so  near  you  ?  "  asked  Albert  at  last. 

"  Wai,  there's  suthin'  curious  'bout  that,"  answered 
Uncle  Terry ;  "  I've  got  so  uster  'em  they  seem  sorter 
necessary  ter  livin',  an'  when  I  go  'way  it's  hard  fer 
me  ter  sleep  fer  missin'  em.  Why,  don't  yer  like  ter 
hear  'em  ?  "  he  added  curiously. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Albert ;  "  I  enjoy  them  always, 
and  they  are  a  lullaby  that  puts  me  to  sleep  at  once." 

It  was  but  little  past  nine  when  Uncle  Terry  arose, 
and  bringing  in  a  basket  of  wood  observed,  "  I  guess 
I'll  turn  in  middlin'  arly  so's  to  git  up  arly'n  pull  my 
traps  'fore  breakfast,  an'  then  I'll  take  ye  out  fishin'. 


284  UNCLE  TERRY 

The  mackerel's  bitin'  good  these  days,  an'  mebbe  ye'll 
enjoy  it." 

Aunt  Lissy  soon  followed  and  Albert  was  left  alone 
with  Telly.  It  looked  intentional,  but  he  was  no  less 
grateful  for  it.  For  a  few  moments  he  watched  her, 
still  intent  on  her  work,  and  wondered  what  was  in 
her  mind. 

"  Have  you  finished  my  sketches  ?  "  he  said  finally, 
feeling  that  was  the  most  direct  avenue  to  her 
thoughts. 

"Not  quite,"  she  replied,  "I  had  to  go  up  to  the 
cove  to  work  on  one  in  order  to  satisfy  myself,  and  a 
good  many  days  it  was  too  rough  to  row  up  there,  so 
that  hindered  me.  I  have  that  one  finished,  though, 
and  the  other  almost." 

The  thought  that  this  girl  had  rowed  four  miles 
every  day  in  order  to  paint  from  the  original  scene  of 
his  sketch  struck  him  forcibly. 

"  May  I  see  the  finished  one  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  brought  it,  and  once  more  he  was  surprised. 
Not  only  was  the  picture  of  herself  sitting  in  the  shade 
of  a  low  spruce  reproduced,  but  the  fern-decorated 
boat  near  by,  the  quiet  little  cove  in  front,  and  a  view 
of  ocean  beyond. 

It  was  a  charming  picture,  and  vividly  recalled  his 
visit  there  with  her. 


FIRELIGHT  FLASHES  285 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  lacking,"  she  said  shyly, 
as  he  held  it  at  an  angle  so  the  firelight  would  shine 
upon  it,  "  and  I  didn't  dare  put  that  in  without  your 
consent." 

"  I  do  not  notice  anything  left  out,  as  I  recall  the 
spot,"  he  answered. 

"  But  there  is,"  she  replied,  "  and  one  that  should  be 
there  to  make  the  picture  correct.  Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

He  looked  at  Telly's  face,  upon  which  a  roguish 
smile  had  come,  but  it  did  not  dawn  on  him  what  she 
meant. 

"  No,  I  can't  guess,"  he  said ;  "  tell  me  what  is  lack- 
ing?" 

"  Yourself,"  she  replied. 

It  was  a  pretty  compliment,  and  coming  from  any 
one  except  Telly  he  would  have  doubted  its  sincerity. 

"  But  I  do  not  want  the  picture  to  remind  me  of 
myself,"  he  answered,  "  I  wanted  it  so  I  could  see 
you  and  recall  the  day  we  were  there."  She  made  no 
reply,  and  he  laid  it  on  the  table  and  asked  for  the 
other  one.  It  was  all  done  except  the  finishing 
touches,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  be  a  reproduction  of 
his  original  sketch  at  the  cove. 

44 1  took  the  liberty  of  changing  it  a  little,"  she  said 
as  he  was  looking  at  it,  "  and  put  in  the  background 
where  you  said  you  first  saw  me." 


286  UNCLE  TERRY 

"  It  was  nice  of  you  to  think  of  making  the  change," 
he  replied  quickly,  "  and  I  am  very  glad  you  did.  I 
wanted  it  to  portray  you  as  I  first  saw  you." 

A  faint  flush  came  into  her  face  at  this,  that  did 
not  escape  him,  and  as  she  was  watching  the  fire  he 
for  a  moment  studied  the  sweet  face  turned  half  away. 
And  what  a  charming  profile  it  was,  with  rounded 
chin,  delicate  patrician  nose,  and  long  eyelashes  just 
touching  the  cheek  that  bore  a  tell-tale  flush !  Was 
that  faint  color  due  to  the  fire  or  to  his  words  ?  He 
could  not  tell.  Then  they  dropped  into  a  pleasant 
chat  about  trifles,  and  the  ocean's  voice  kept  up  its 
rhythm,  the  fire  sparkled,  and  the  small  cottage  clock 
ticked  the  happy  moments  away. 

"  How  is  Mrs.  Leach?"  he  asked  at  last;  "  does  she 
pray  as  fervently  at  every  meeting  ?  " 

"Just  the  same,"  replied  Telly,  "and  always  will 
as  long  as  she  has  breath.  It  is,  as  father  says,  her 
only  consolation." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that  evening  many  times  since," 
he  continued,  "and  the  impression  that  poor  old  lady 
made  on  me  with  her  piteous  supplication.  It  was 
unlike  anything  of  the  kind  that  I  ever  listened  to.  I 
wonder,"  he  added  musingly,  "  how  it  would  affect 
a  Boston  church  congregation  some  evening  to  have 
such  an  appearing  figure,  clad  as  she  was,  rise  and 


FIRELIGHT  FLASHES  287 

utter  the  prayer  she  did.  It  would  startle  them,  I 
think." 

"  I  do  not  think  Mrs.  Leach  would  enter  one  of 
your  city  churches,"  responded  Telly,  "  and  certainly 
not  clad  as  she  has  to  be.  She  has  a  little  pride  left, 
even  if  she  is  poor." 

"  Oh,  I  meant  no  reflection,"  explained  Albert, 
feeling  that  Telly  thought  the  old  lady  needed  de 
fending,  uonly  the  scene  was  so  impressive,  I  won 
dered  how  it  would  affect  a  fashionable  church  gath 
ering.  I  think  it  would  do  them  good,"  he  added 
candidly,  "  to  listen  to  a  real  sincere  prayer  that  came 
from  some  one's  heart  and  was  nob  manufactured  for 
the  occasion.  Those  who  wear  fine  silks  and  broad 
cloth  and  sit  in  cushioned  pews  seldom  hear  such  a 
prayer  as  she  uttered  that  night." 

Then  as  Telly  made  no  response  he  sat  in  silence  a 
few  moments,  mentally  contrasting  the  girl  he  had 
really  come  to  woo  with  those  he  had  met  in  Boston. 

And  what  a  contrast ! 

This  girl  clad  in  a  gray  dress,  severe  in  its  sim 
plicity,  and  so  ill-fitting  that  it  really  detracted  from 
the  beautiful  outlines  of  her  form,  though  not  entirely 
hiding  them,  for  that  was  impossible.  Her  luxuriant 
tresses  were  braided  and  coiled  low  down  on  the  back 
of  her  head,  and  at  her  throat  a  tiny  bow  of  blue. 


288  UNCLE   TEKRY 

Not  an  ornament  of  any  name  or  nature  did  she  wear, 
not  even  a  single  ring.  Only  the  crown  of  her  sunny 
hair,  two  little  rose  leaves  in  her  cheeks,  and  the 
queen-like  majesty  of  throat  and  shoulders  and  bust, 
so  classic  that  not  one  woman  in  a  hundred  but  would 
envy  her  their  possession. 

And  then,  what  was  equally  as  striking,  what  a 
contrast  in  speech,  expression,  and  ways !  Timid 
to  the  verge  of  bashfulness,  utterly  unaffected,  and 
yet  sincere,  tender,  and  thoughtful  in  each  and  every 
utterance ;  a  beautiful  flower  grown  to  perfection 
among  the  rocks  of  this  seldom  visited  island,  un 
trained  by  conventionality  and  unsullied  by  the 
world.  "  I  wonder  how  she  would  act  if  suddenly 
dropped  into  the  Nasons'  home,  or  what  would  Alice 
think  of  her  !  "  Then  as  he  noted  the  sad  little  droop 
of  her  exquisite  lips,  and  as  she,  wondering  at  his 
silence,  turned  her  pleading  eyes  toward  him,  there 
came  into  his  heart  in  an  instant  a  feeling  that,  despite 
all  her  timidity  and  all  her  lack  of  worldly  wisdom,  he 
would  value  her  love  and  confidence  far  above  any 
woman's  he  had  ever  met ! 

Then,  recalling  the  hint  as  to  her  nature  disclosed 
by  Uncle  Terry,  he  resolved  to  probe  it  there  and 
then,  or  at  least  to  draw  her  out  a  little. 

"Miss  Terry,"  he  said   gently,  "do   you   know  I 


FIRELIGHT   FLASHES  289 

fancy  that  living  here  as  you  have  all  your  life,  within 
sound  of  the  sad  sea  waves,  has  woven  a  little  of  their 
melancholy  into  your  nature  and  a  little  of  their 
pathos  into  your  eyes.  I  thought  so  the  first  time  I 
saw  you,  and  the  more  I  see  of  you  the  more  I  think 
it  is  so." 

Telly  was  looking  at  him  curiously  when  he  began 
this  rather  pointed  observation,  and  at  its  close  her 
eyes  fell  and  the  two  rose  leaves  in  her  cheeks  in 
creased  in  size.  For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  and 
then  as  she  answered  he  detected  a  note  of  pain  in 
her  voice. 

"The  ocean  does  sound  sad  to  me,"  she  said,  "and 
at  times  it  makes  me  very  blue.  Then  I  am  so  much 
alone  and  have  no  one  in  whom  to  confide  my  feelings. 
Mother  would  not  understand  me,  and  if  father 
thought  I  wasn't  happy  it  would  make  him  miserable." 
Then  turning  her  pathetic  eyes  full  upon  her  ques 
tioner  she  added :  "  Did  you  ever  think,  Mr.  Page, 
that  the  sound  of  the  waves  might  be  the  voices 
of  drowned  people  trying  to  be  heard?  I  believe 
every  human  being  has  a  soul,  and  for  all  we  know, 
if  they  have  gone  down  into  the  ocean,  their  souls 
may  be  in  the  water  and  possibly  are  trying  to  speak 
to  us." 

"  Oh,    no,    no,    Miss    Terry,"    responded    Albert 


290  UNCLE   TERRY 

hastily,  "  that  is  all  imagination  on  your  part  and  due 
to  your  being  too  much  alone  with  your  own  thoughts. 
The  ocean  of  course  has  a  sad  sound  to  us  all,  if 
we  stop  and  think  about  it,  but  it's  best  not  to. 
What  you  need  is  the  companionship  of  some  cheer 
ful  girl  about  your  own  age  and  fewer  hours  with 
only  yourself  for  company."  Then  he  added  thought 
fully,  "  I  wish  you  could  visit  Alice  for  a  few  months. 
She  would  drive  the  megrims  out  of  your  mind." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  have  her  come  and  visit  me," 
replied  Telly  eagerly,  and  in  her  simple  sincerity  add 
ing,  "  I  am  sure  I  should  love  her." 

Albert  had  hard  work  to  restrain  a  smile,  but  he 
was  none  the  less  charmed  by  her  frankness.  "  I 
wish  she  could,"  he  answered,  "  but  she  is  a  school 
teacher  and  that  duty  keeps  her  occupied  most  of  the 
time.  I  shall  bring  her  down  here  next  summer," 
he  added  earnestly.  Then  feeling  it  unfair  to  conceal 
the  fact  that  he  knew  her  history  any  longer,  he  said, 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Terry,  but  I  know  what  is 
at  the  bottom  of  your  melancholy  moods  and  I  knew 
it  the  second  night  I  was  here  last  summer.  Your 
father  told  me  your  history  then." 

"  He  did  ?  "  she  replied,  turning  her  pleading  eyes 
upon  him  in  surprise ;  "  you  knew  my  unfortunate  his 
tory  that  night?" 


FIRELIGHT   FLASHES  291 

"  I  did,  every  word  of  it,"  he  answered  tenderly, 
"  and  I  should  have  told  you  I  did  if  I  had  not  been 
afraid  it  would  hurt  you  to  know  I  knew  it  then." 

Her  eyes  fell  and  a  look  of  pain  came  into  her 
face. 

Then  perhaps  the  quick  sympathy  she  had  shown 
regarding  the  pictures,  or  the  pathos  of  that  look,  or 
both,  made  him  a  trifle  reckless.  Such  things  are  apt 
to  have  that  effect  upon  a  young  man  rapidly  enter 
ing  the  illusion  of  love. 

"  Please  banish  this  mood  from  now  on  and  never 
let  it  return,"  he  said  hastily ;  "  I  have  come  to  tell 
you  that  in  the  near  future  the  mystery  of  your  life 
may  be  solved,  and  what  is  better,  that  a  legacy 
awaits  your  claiming.  The  matter  has  been  in  the 
hands  of  an  unprincipled  lawyer  for  some  months,  as 
no  doubt  Mr.  Terry  has  told  you,  but  now  he  is  dead 
and  I  have  taken  hold  of  it,  and  shall  not  rest  until 
you  have  your  rights.  We  shall  know  what  your 
heritage  is  and  all  about  your  ancestors  in  a  few 
months."  Then  he  added  tenderly,  "  Would  it 
pain  you  to  hear  more  about  it,  or  would  you 
rather  not?" 

"  Father  has  told  me  a  little  of  it,"  she  answered, 
"  but  I  know  he  has  kept  most  of  the  trouble  to  him 
self.  It's  his  way.  Since  he  came  back  from  Boston 


292  UNCLE   TERRY 

he  has  acted  like  his  old  self,  and  no  words  can  tell 
how  glad  I  am.  As  for  the  money,  it  must  and  shall 
go  to  him,  every  penny  of  it,  and  all  the  comfort  I 
can  give  him  as  long  as  he  lives  as  well." 

She  spoke  vehemently,  and  a  look  of  pride  came 
into  her  face. 

"  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have  said,"  came  from 
Albert  quickly,  "  for  now  I  shall  dare  to  tell  you  another 
story  before  I  go  back.  Not  to-night,"  he  added 
smiling,  as  she  looked  at  him  curiously,  "  but  you 
shall  hear  it  in  due  time.  Up  at  the  cove,  maybe,  if 
to-morrow  afternoon  is  pleasant.  I  too  am  supersti 
tious  in  some  ways." 

An  unusual  elation  came  to  him  after  this,  and  per 
haps  to  keep  Telly  from  guessing  what  his  story  was 
he  talked  upon  every  subject  that  might  interest  her, 
avoiding  the  one  nearest  his  heart.  It  came  with  a 
surprise  when  the  little  clock  chimed  eleven,  and  he 
at  once  arose  and  begged  her  pardon  for  the  pos 
sible  trespass  upon  conventional  hours.  "You  will 
go  up  to  the  cove  with  me  ?  "  he  asked  as  he  paused  a 
moment  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  I  shall  enjoy  it  very  much,"  she  answered  simply, 
"  and  I  have  a  favor  I  want  to  ask  of  you,  which  is, 
to  let  me  make  a  sketch  of  you  just  where  you  sat 
the  time  your  boat  drifted  away," 


FIRELIGHT   FLASHES  293 

When  he  retired  it  was  long  after  he  heard  the 
clock  downstairs  strike  the  midnight  hour  before  he 
failed  to  note  the  ocean's  voice  beneath  his  window, 
and  in  his  dreams  he  saw  Telly's  face  smiling  in  the 
firelight. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

THE    "  WIDDER  "    LEACH 

"  I'M  goin'  to  give  ye  a  taste  o'  mackerel  fishinY' 
said  Uncle  Terry  the  next  morning  after  breakfast. 
"  We'll  go  over  to  the  fish  house  an'  ye  can  put  on 
some  oilers  an'  save  yer  good  clothes."  On  the  way 
they  met  the  well-remembered  old  lady  Albert  had 
first  noticed  at  the  prayer-meeting.  She  recognized 
him,  and  offering  a  rather  soiled  hand  (for  she  had 
been  spreading  fish  on  the  racks),  exclaimed: 

"  In  the  Lord's  name  I  thank  ye,  Mr.  Page,  for  re- 
memberin'  a  poor  old  creetur  like  me  and  sendin'  that 
dress.  I  make  sure  the  Lord's  teched  yer  heart,  an' 
if  ye  ain't  a  believer  yet,  ye  will  be." 

"  I  am  glad  my  little  remembrance  pleased  you," 
answered  Albert  pleasantly,  "  it  was  only  a  trifle,  and 
you  need  not  feel  obligated  for  it."  He  kept  on  after 
Uncle  Terry,  not  wishing  to  waste  any  time ;  but  she 
followed  to  add  more  thanks,  ending  with,  "  God 
bless  ye,  sir ;  an'  may  He  warm  the  heart  o'  one  good 
girl,  fer  ye  desarve  it." 


295 

It  struck  him  as  a  little  curious  that  this  eccentric 
old  lady  should  have  so  well  read  his  feelings  towards 
Telly,  but  it  pleased  him  just  the  same.  When  he 
had  donned  a  suit  of  oilers,  and  Uncle  Terry  was 
pulling  out  of  the  little  cove,  Albert  said,  "  That  old 
lady  is  the  most  pious  person  I  ever  met,  and  with 
her  it  seems  entirely  sincere.  No  one  could  doubt 
she  means  every  word  she  says." 

"  Wai,  it's  about  all  the  consolation  she  gits  out  o' 
life,  an'  'twixt  you  an'  me  she  takes  more'n  all  the 
rest  o'  the  believers  here,"  answered  Uncle  Terry, 
"  an'  at  times  I  'most  envy  her  f er  it.  She  don't  airn 
more'n  'nough  to  keep  soul  an'  body  together,  an' 
winters  some  on  us  allus  helps  her.  She  has  nobody 
in  the  world  that's  near  her,  lives  alone  in  a  little 
shanty,  an'  is  over  seventy,  and  yet  she  thanks  the 
Lord  three  times  a  day  for  his  many  blessin's  an's 
sure  he'd  never  let  her  come  to  want.  She's  lived 
that  way  fer  goin'  on  thirty  year,  an'  no  one  ever 
heard  her  complain.  Both  her  husband  an'  son  went 
down  in  a  coaster  one  winter's  night,  on  Monhegan 
Shoals,  an'  tho'  nachly  she  took  on  'bout  it  a  spell, 
she  believed  it  was  the  Lord's  will,  an'  meant  to  be  a 
blessin'." 

"She  is  a  monomaniac  on  the  subject,  I  should 
imagine,"  observed  Albert. 


296  UNCLE  TERRY 

"Wai,  sorter  cracked  'bout  religion,"  answered 
Uncle  Terry,  "  leastwise  that's  my  notion  ;  an'  mebbe 
it's  lucky  she  is,  seem'  she's  poor,  an'  nothin'  but 
that  fer  comfort.  She's  smart  'nuff  other  ways, 
though,  an'  there  ain't  nothin'  goin'  on  here  she  don't 
know.  She's  kind-hearted  too,  an'  if  she  had  any 
thing  ter  give,  she'd  share  her  last  cent  with  ye.  If 
ennybody's  sick,  she's  allus  ready  to  help.  Thar's  lots 
o'  wuss  folks  in  the  world  than  the  Widder  Leach." 
And  then  as  if  that  crowned  the  sum  total  of  her 
virtues  he  added,  "  Telly  an'  Lissy  thinks  lots  o'  her." 

He  paused  for  breath,  and  turning  to  see  if  they 
were  heading  right,  resumed  his  strong  and  steady 
pulling.  The  morning  was  wondrously  fair  and  still ; 
the  sun,  a  round  red  ball,  had  been  up  not  over  half 
an  hour,  and  a  mile  ahead  of  them  lay  Damriscove 
Island,  green  and  treeless.  Close  by  a  flock  of  sea 
gulls  were  floating  on  the  still  water,  and  away  out 
seaward  the  swells  were  breaking  on  a  long  and  nar 
row  ledge. 

"  Thar,"  observed  Uncle  Terry,  pointing  to  this 
ledge,  "  is  whar  Telly  started  for  shore  all  alone,  just 
nineteen  years  ago  last  March."  And  then  adding, 
while  he  watched  Albert's  averted  face,  "  'Twas  an 
onlucky  day  fer  the  poor  sailors  an'  a  lucky  one  for 
us,  fer  she's  been  a  heap  o'  comfort  ever  since." 


THE   "  WIDDER  "   LEACH  297 

"Tell  me,  Uncle  Terry,"  said  Albert,  "why  it  is 
she  feels  so  extremely  sensitive  regarding  her  roman 
tic  history,  and  what  is  the  cause  of  the  peculiar 
moods  you  spoke  of  last  summer  ?  I  noticed  it  last 
evening,  and  it  pained  me  very  much." 

"  It's  hard  tellin',"  was  the  answer,  "  she's  a  girl 
that's  given  ter  broodin'  a  good  deal,  an'  mebbe  when 
she  was  told  the  facts  she  began  ter  suspect  some  o' 
her  ancestors  would  be  lookin'  her  up  some  day.  She 
allus  has  been  a  good  deal  by  herself  sence  she  got 
her  schoolin',  an'  most  likely  doin'  lots  o'  thinkin'. 
But  Telly's  all  right,"  he  added  briefly,  "  an'  the  most 
willin'  an'  tender-hearted  creetur  I  ever  seen  or  heard 
on.  She'll  make  an  amazin'  good  wife  fer  some  man, 
if  she  ever  finds  the  right  'un." 

It  is  needless  to  say  some  one  else  in  the  boat 
echoed  that  belief  in  thought.  When  they  reached 
the  island  Uncle  Terry  landed,  and  going  to  the 
top  of  a  cliff,  scanned  the  sea  for  signs  of  fish. 

"Mackerel's  curus  fish,"  he  observed  to  Albert, 
who  had  followed.  "They's  a  good  deal  like  some 
wimmin  :  ye  never  know  whar  ter  find  'em.  Yester 
day  mornin'  that  cove  jest  inside  o'  the  pint  was  'live 
with  'em,  an'  to-day  I  can't  see  a  sign  o'  one.  We 
better  sit  here  an'  wait  a  spell  till  I  sight  a  school." 

To  a  dreamer  like  Albert  Page  the  limitless  ocean 


298  UNCLE   TEBKY 

view  he  now  enjoyed  lifted  him  far  above  mackerel 
and  their  habits.  His  mind  was  also  occupied  a  good 
deal  by  Telly,  and  while  he  desired  to  please  the 
kindly  old  man  who  imagined  fishing  would  entertain 
him,  his  heart  was  not  in  it. 

"  Don't  let  us  worry  about  the  mackerel,  Uncle 
Terry,"  he  observed  as  they  seated  themselves  on  top 
of  a  cliff,  "  this  lone,  uninhabited  island  and  the  view 
here  will  content  me  until  your  fish  are  hungry." 

"  It  allus  sets  me  thinkin'  too,"  was  the  answer, 
41  an'  wonderin'  whar  we  cum  from  and  what  we  air 
here  for.  An'  our  stay  is  so  amazin'  short  besides  ! 
We  air  born,  grow  up,  work  a  spell,  git  old  and  die, 
an'  that's  the  end.  Why,  it  don't  seem  only  last  year 
when  I  cum  to  the  Cape,  an'  it's  goin'  nigh  on  to 
thirty  now,  an'  I'm  a'most  through  my  spell  o'  life. 
What  puzzles  me,"  he  added,  "  is  what's  the  good  o' 
bein'  born  at  all  if  ye've  got  ter  die  so  soon !  An' 
more'n  all  that,  if  life's  the  Lord's  blessin',  as  the  wid- 
der  b'lieves,  why  are  so  many  only  born  to  suffer,  or 
be  crippled  all  their  lives  ?  An'  why  are  snakes  an' 
all  sorts  o'  vermin,  to  say  nothin'  o'  cheatin'  lawyers, 
like  Frye,  ever  born  at  all  ?  " 

Albert  smiled  at  the  odd  coupling  of  Frye  with 
vermin.  "  There  are  a  good  many  wiser  heads  than 
mine,  Uncle  Terry,  that  have  never  been  able  to 


THE  "WIDDER"  LEACH  299 

answer  your  question,"  he  replied,  "  and  I  doubt  if 
they  ever  will.  To  my  mind  the  origin  of  life  is  an 
enigma,  the  wide  variations  in  matters  of  health  and 
ability  an  injustice,  and  the  end  a  blank  wall  that 
none  who  scale  ever  recross  with  tidings  of  the 
beyond.  As  some  one  has  expressed  it :  '  Life  is  a 
narrow  vale  between  the  cold  and  barren  peaks  of  two 
eternities !  We  strive  in  vain  to  look  beyond  the 
heights ;  we  cry  aloud,  and  the  only  answer  is  the 
echo  of  our  wailing  cry.' ' 

"  An'  right  thar,"  put  in  Uncle  Terry  earnestly,  "  is 
whar  I  allus  envy  the  believers,  as  the  widder  calls 
'em,  for  they  are  satisfied  what  is  beyond  and  have 
it  all  pict'rd  out  in  thar  minds,  even  to  what  the 
streets  are  paved  with,  an'  the  kind  o'  music  they're 
goin'  ter  have.  It's  all  guesswork  in  my  way  o' 
thinkin',  but  they  are  sure  on't,  an'  that  feelin'  is 
lots  o'  comfort  to  'em  when  they  are  drawin'  near 
the  end.  I've  been  a  sort  er  scoffer  all  my  life,"  he 
added  reflectively,  "  an'  can't  help  bein'  a  doubter, 
but  there  are  times  when  I  envy  Aunt  Leach  an' 
the  rest  on'  em  the  delusion  I  b'lieve  they're  laborin' 
under." 

"But  do  you  believe  death  ends  all  conscious 
ness  ?  "  asked  Albert  seriously.  "  Have  you  no  hope, 
ever,  of  a  life  beyond  this  blank  wall?" 


300  UNCLE   TERRY 

"  Sartin  I  have  hopes,"  replied  Uncle  Terry  at 
once,  "  same  as  all  on  us  has,  but  I  wish  I  was  more 
sure  my  hopes  was  goin'  ter  be  realized.  Once  in  a 
while  I  git  the  feelin'  thar  ain't  no  use  in  hopin',  an' 
then  a  little  suthin  keeps  sayin'  '  Mebbe  —  mebbe  — 
mebbe  '  -  —  an'  I  feel  more  cheerful  again." 

Albert  looked  at  the  roughly  clad  and  withered 
old  man  who  sat  near,  and  in  whose  words  lurked 
an  undertone  of  sadness  mingled  with  a  faint  hope, 
and  in  an  instant  back  came  a  certain  evening  months 
before  when  the  Widow  Leach  had  uttered  a  prayer 
that  had  stirred  his  feelings  as  no  such  utterance 
ever  had  before.  All  the  pathos  of  that  simple  peti 
tion,  all  its  abiding  faith  in  God's  goodness  and 
wisdom,  all  its  utter  self-abnegation  and  absolute  con 
fidence  in  a  life  beyond  the  grave,  came  back,  and  all 
the  consolation  that  feeling  surely  held  for  the  old 
and  poverty-environed  soul  who  uttered  it  impressed 
him  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  doubting  "  mebbe  —  meb 
be  "  of  Uncle  Terry. 

Then  again  he  thought  of  all  the  sneers  against 
faith  and  religious  conviction  he  had  found  in  the 
writings  of  Paine  and  Voltaire ;  all  the  brilliant 
epigrams  and  sharp  sarcasms  he  had  heard  fall  from 
the  lips  of  Ingersoll,  and  how  he  had  felt  a  growing 
belief  that  faith  in  the  Bible  was  but  an  evidence  of 


301 


ignorance  and  the  ear-mark  of  superstition.  Then 
following  that  came  a  contrasting  comparison  of  the 
peace  of  mind  that  was  the  widow's  and  the  lack  of 
it  that  was  Uncle  Terry's,  both  of  whom  must  feel 
that  only  a  few  short  years  were  left  them.  And 
again  following  the  line  of  comparison,  what  had  he 
to  look  forward  to  when  the  end  of  all  things  earthly 
drew  near  ?  Truly,  as  he  had  thought  the  night  that 
poor  but  devout  old  soul  had  clasped  her  hands  and 
thanked  God  for  the  blessed  belief  that  was  her  com 
fort  and  staff,  what  availed  the  doubt  and  distrust  of 
atheism  ?  All  the  epigrams  of  Ingersoll  and  the 
sneers  of  Voltaire  served  only  to  remove  a  hope  and 
left  nought  to  take  its  place  ;  a  hope,  the  divine  solace 
of  which  is  and  will  be  for  all  time  a  blessed  ray  of 
light  piercing  the  dark  shadow  of  the  beyond;  a 
beacon  beside  which  all  the  cold  philosophy  of  scep 
tics  will  at  the  end  fade  away. 

Then  as  Albert  looked  '  out  to  where  the  waves 
were  breaking  upon  a  ledge,  and  back  again  to  this 
old  man,  sitting  with  bowed  head  beside  him,  a  sin 
cere  regret  that  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  utter  one 
word  that  would  aid  in  dispelling  the  clouds  of  doubt 
came  to  him.  "Since  I  lack  in  faith  myself,"  he 
thought,  "  all  I  can  say  will  only  increase  his  doubt.  I 
wish  I  had  as  much  faith  as  the  widow,  but  I  have  not, 


302  UNCLE  TERRY 

and  possibly  never  shall  have."  For  a  long  time  he 
sat  in  silence,  living  over  the  years  during  which 
scepticism  had  been  slowly  but  surely  growing  upon 
him,  and  then  Uncle  Terry  suddenly  looked  up  at  him. 
It  is  likely  the  old  man's  keen  eyes  read  at  a  glance 
what  was  in  Albert's  mind,  for  he  said :  "  It  don't  do 
no  good  ter  brood  over  this  matter  o'  believin',  Mr. 
Page  ;  I've  wished  I  thought  different  many  a  time,  an' 
more  so  now  I'm  gittin'  near  the  end  o'  life,  but  I 
can't,  an'  so  thar's  no  use  in  worryin'.  Our  'pinions 
'bout  these  matters  are  a  good  deal  due  to  our  bringin' 
up,  and  the  experiences  we've  met  with.  Mine  con 
nected  with  those  as  has  perfessed  religion  has,  to  say 
the  least,  been  unfortnit,  but  as  I  said  afore,  I  wish  I 
believed  different." 

He  paused  a  few  moments,  watching  the  ground 
swells  breaking  below  them  on  the  rocks,  and  then 
added  sadly :  "  This  hopin'  ain't  allus  best  fur  some 
on  us  either,  fur  it's  hopin'  fur  some  one  to  cum  year 
after  year  that's  made  Telly  what  she  is,  an'  grieved 
Lissy  an'  me  more'n  she  ever  knew." 

Albert  looked  curiously  at  the  old  man  beside  him, 
whose  rough  garb  and  storm-beaten  face  gave  so  little 
evidence  of  the  tender  heart  beneath,  and  a  new  feel 
ing  of  trust  and  affection  came  to  him.  In  some  ways 
Uncle  Terry  seemed  so  like  his  own  father.  Then 


THE   "  WIDDEK  "    LEACH  303 

following  that  came  a  sudden  impulse  to  be  utterly 
frank  with  him. 

"  Uncle  Terry,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  little  story  to 
tell  you,  and  as  it  comes  close  to  you,  I  believe  it's 
right  that  you  should  know  it.  The  first  time  I  saw 
Telly  I  said  to  myself,  4  That  girl  is  a  prize  any  man 
may  feel  proud  to  win.'  I  asked  her  if  I  might  write 
to  her,  and  what  with  her  few  letters,  and  the  little 
I  have  seen  of  her,  I  feel  that  she  is  the  one  I  want 
for  a  wife.  I  have  not  even  hinted  it  to  her  yet,  and 
before  I  do  I  would  like  to  feel  that  you  are  satisfied 
with  me.  May  I  have  your  consent  to  win  her  if  I 
can?" 

Uncle  Terry  reached  out  and  grasped  Albert's  hand, 
and  shaking  it  cordially  answered :  "  Ye  hev  my  best 
wishes  in  the  matter,  an'  I  wouldn't  say  that  if  I 
didn't  think  ye  worthy  o'  her !  "  Then  he  added  with 
a  droll  smile,  "  Lissy  an'  me  sorter  'spected  that  Telly 
was  the  magnet  that  drew  ye  down  here !  " 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence  and  consent,"  re 
plied  Albert  gratefully,  glad  that  he  had  spoken.  "  I 
am  earning  an  income  that  is  more  than  sufficient  for 
two,  and  if  Telly  will  say  '  yes,'  I  shall  be  the  hap 
piest  man  on  earth.  And  now,"  he  added,  "let's 
go  fishing,  Uncle  Terry." 

"I  guess  it's  'bout  time,"  was  the  answer,   "fur 


304  UNCLE   TERRY 

thar's  two  schools  workin'  into  the  cove,  an'  we'll  have 
some  fun." 

Three  hours  after,  when  they  landed  at  the  cove, 
fairly  sated  with  pulling  in  the  gamy  little  mackerel, 
and  happy  as  two  boys,  Telly  met  them  with  a  smile 
and  the  news  that  dinner  was  ready. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

A  NAMELESS   COVE 

"WE  will  go  in  my  boat,"  said  Telly  the  next 
afternoon  when  she  and  her  admirer  were  ready  to 
start  on  their  trip  to  the  cove,  and  unlocking  a  small 
annex  to  Uncle  Terry's  boathouse,  showed  him  a  dainty 
cedar  craft,  cushioned  and  carpeted.  "  You  may  help 
me  launch  the  '  Sea  Shell '  "  (as  the  boat  was  named), 
she  added  smiling,  "  and  then  you  may  steer." 

"  No,  that  is  the  lady's  privilege  in  all  voyages," 
he  answered,  "  and  we  must  begin  this  one  right." 

It  was  a  good  four-mile  pull  to  the  mouth  of  the 
inlet,  and  when  he  helped  his  fair  passenger  out  he 
said,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  rowed  up  here  alone 
every  day  to  work  on  that  picture,  Telly  ? "  and  he 
added  hastily,  "  you  will  let  me  call  you  Telly  now, 
won't  you  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  All  my  friends  do,  and  I  feel  you  are 
my  friend."  Then  she  added,  "  Now  I  am  going  to 
have  my  revenge  and  make  you  pose  while  I  sketch 
this  time.  It  was  the  other  way  before." 


306  UNCLE   TERRY 

"  I  am  glad  it  is,"  lie  said,  "  for  my  arms  are  too 
tired  to  use  for  an  hour.  How  do  you  want  me,  flat 
on  the  rock  fast  asleep,  the  way  I  was  when  my  boat 
drifted  away?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied  hastily,  "  that  would  look  as 
if  you  were  dead,  and  as  this  is  to  be  my  reminder  of 
you,  I  want  you  very  much  alive."  She  seemed  in 
unusually  good  spirits,  and  in  a  far  brighter  mood 
than  usual,  and  ready  to  jest  and  joke  with  unaffected 
gayety.  As  for  the  pose  she  wanted  Albert  to  assume, 
she  could  not  determine  which  she  liked  the  best. 

"  I  want  to  sketch  you  in  the  position  most  natural 
to  you  here,"  she  said  finally,  "  and  must  ask  you  to 
choose  that  yourself." 

"  Let  us  trim  the  boat  the  way  mine  was  that  day," 
he  suggested  at  last,  "  and  I  will  sit  beside  it  and 
smoke  while  you  work." 

The  idea  was  adopted,  and  while  Telly  sketched, 
he  smoked,  contented  to  watch  the  winsome  face,  so 
oblivious  of  his  admiring  glances. 

"  There,"  she  observed,  after  a  half  hour  of  active 
pencilling,  "please  lay  your  cigar  aside  and  look 
pleasant.  I  want  to  catch  the  expression  of  your 
face." 

When  the  sketch  was  completed  she  asked  if  he 
had  any  suggestions  to  make. 


A   NAMELESS   COVE  307 

"  Only  one,"  he  replied,  "  and  that  is,  I  would  like 
you  in  the  picture  and  sitting  beside  me." 

She  colored  a  little  at  this,  for  though  utterly  un 
used  to  the  polite  flatteries  of  society,  she  could  not 
mistake  his  open  admiration. 

"  I  would  rather  not  be  in  it,"  she  replied  soberly. 
"  I  only  want  to  see  you  as  you  are  here  to-day.  It 
may  be  a  long  time  before  you  come  to  the  Cape  again." 

It  was  an  inadvertent  speech,  though  quite  expres 
sive  of  her  feelings,  but  she  had  no  idea  how  anxious 
he  was  to  obtain  the  insight  it  gave  him. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  come  often  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered,  turning  away  her  face ; 
"  it  is  so  lonesome  here,  and  there  is  no  one  I  care  to 
talk  with  except  father  and  mother  and  Aunt  Leach 
and  Mandy  Oaks." 

Albert's  heart  began  to  beat  with  unusual  speed. 
Never  -in  his  life  before  had  he  felt  the  impulse  to 
utter  words  of  love  to  any  woman,  and  now  he  was 
face  to  face  with  the  sweet  though  dreaded  ordeal. 
For  weal  or  woe,  he  could  not  go  back  and  leave  them 
unsaid.  He  had  planned  to  say  about  what  he  had 
to  Uncle  Terry,  beginning  with  a  brief  history  of  his 
life,  his  income,  his  hopes,  and  ending  with  asking 
her  to  share  them.  But  the  fortress  of  a  woman's 
heart  is  seldom  assailed  that  way,  and  with  the  queen 


308  UNCLE   TERRY 

of  his,  alone  there  beside  him  in  that  peaceful  nook, 
where  only  the  tiniest  pulse  of  the  ocean  rippled  on 
the  rocks,  he  quite  forgot  his  address  to  this  fair  judge 
and  jury.  "  Telly,"  he  said,  "  I  promised  to  tell  you 
a  little  story  here  to-day,  but  it's  all  said  in  a  few 
words.  I  love  you,  and  I  want  you  to  share  my  life 
and  all  that  I  can  do  to  make  you  happy."  A  trifle 
incoherent,  but  expressive  ;  and  the  answer  ? 

For  a  moment,  while  the  tide  of  feeling  surged 
through  that  queen's  heart,  and  into  her  cheeks,  even 
to  the  tips  of  her  ears,  she  was  silent,  and  then  as 
both  her  hands  went  to  her  face,  she  almost  whispered, 
"  Oh,  no,  no,  I  cannot !  I  can  never  leave  father  and 
mother  alone  here  !  It  would  break  my  heart !  " 

"  But  you  do  care  a  little  for  me,  don't  you,  Telly  ?  " 
he  begged,  trying  to  draw  her  hands  away  from  her 
blushing  face.  "  Just  a  little,  Telly,  only  say  a' little, 
to  give  me  hope." 

And  then,  as  one  of  the  hands  he  was  trying  to 
gain  was  yielded,  and  as  he  softly  stroked  and  then 
raised  it  to  his  lips,  she  turned  her  pleading  eyes  to 
him  and  said,  "  You  won't  be  angry,  will  you  ?  And 
you  will  come  and  see  me  once  in  a  while,  won't 
you  ?  And  let  me  paint  a  picture  to  give  you  when 
you  come  ?  " 

It  may  have  been  the  pain  in  his  face  added  to  her 


A   NAMELESS   COVE  309 

own  desolation  that  overcame  all  else,  for  now  she 
bowed  her  head  and  the  tears  came.  "  I  thank  you 
for  so  much,  Telly,"  he  answered  tenderly,  "  and  God 
bless  you  for  it.  I  do  not  give  you  up  and  shall  not, 
if  I  have  to  wait  all  my  life  for  you.  I  can  be  patient 
if  I  only  have  hope."  He  brushed  his  face  with  one 
hand,  and  still  holding  hers,  arose  and  drew  her  up. 
Then  the  bold  wooer  slyly  put  his  arm  around  her 
waist,  and  as  he  drew  her  to  him  he  whispered,  "  Just 
one,  Telly,  my  sweetheart,  to  make  this  spot  seem 
more  sacred." 

It  was  not  refused. 

It  is  no  harm  for  a  man  to  be  refused ;  instead  it  is 
a  beneficial  tonic,  and  inevitably  makes  him  realize 
how  serious  a  step  he  is  asking  some  good  woman  to 
take  and  how  much  it  means  to  her.  In  Albert's 
case  it  was  tempered  by  so  many  consolations,  one  at 
least  of  exquisite  sweetness,  that  he  did  not  really 
feel  it  a  final  refusal.  That  Telly's  heart  was  very 
tender  toward  him  he  felt  sure,  and  what  is  more, 
that  in  time  he  would  overcome  her  one  objection. 

"  Come  out  on  the  point,  dear,"  he  said  as  she 
tried  to  draw  herself  away,  "so  we  can  see  the  ocean 
better.  I  will  tell  you  the  story  I  promised  last  even 
ing."  He  still  held  her  a  half  prisoner,  and  when 
they  were  seated  where  the  waves  were  beating 


310  UNCLE  TERRY 

almost  at  their  feet,  he  began  his  recital.  When  he 
came  to  that  portion  in  which  Frye  played  a  part, 
and  ending  in  such  a  ghastly  denouement,  she  shud 
dered. 

"  That  is  the  one  horrible  part  of  taking  your  own 
life,"  she  said,  "  to  think  how  you  will  look  and  what 
those  who  find  you  will  say.  If  I  were  to  do  such  a 
thing  I  should  first  make  sure  no  one  would  ever  find 
me." 

The  remark  startled  him.  "  Telly,"  he  said  soberly, 
"  do  not  ever  think  of  such  a  thing.  Would  you, 
whose  heart  is  so  loving  and  tender,  burden  all  those 
who  know  you  with  a  lifelong  sorrow?" 

"  No,  no,  not  that  way,"  she  answered  quickly, 
"only  if  those  who  love  me  were  taken  I  should 
want  to  follow  them;  that  is  all.  Please  forget  I 
said  it."  Then  she  told  him  her  own  brief  history, 
and  at  last,  after  much  coaxing,  a  little  of  the  one 
sorrow  of  her  life. 

"  Now  I  know,"  he  said,  "  why  you  avoided  speak 
ing  about  the  picture  of  the  wreck  the  first  time  I 
came  here."  Then  in  a  moment  he  added,  "Telly, 
I  want  you  to  give  it  to  me  and  let  me  take  it  away. 
I  want  it  for  two  reasons :  one  is,  it  gave  me  the  first 
hint  of  your  life's  history.  And  then  I  do  not  want 
you  to  look  at  it  any  more." 


A   NAMELESS  COVE  311 

"  You  may  have  it,"  she  answered,  smiling  sadly ; 
"  it  was  foolish  of  me  to  paint  it  in  the  first  place, 
and  I  wish  I  never  had." 

When  the  sun  was  low  and  they  were  ready  to  re 
turn  he  said,  "  Promise  me,  sweetheart,  that  you  will 
try  to  forget  all  of  your  past  that  is  sad,  and  think 
only  of  us  who  love  you,  and  to  whom  your  life  is  a 
blessing." 

That  evening  he  noticed  Uncle  Terry  occasionally 
watched  her  with  wistful  eyes,  and,  as  on  the  evening 
before,  both  he  and  Aunt  Lissy  retired  early. 

"  They  wish  me  well,"  Albert  thought,  and  with 
gratitude.  He  had  even  more  reason  for  it  when  the 
next  day  Uncle  Terry  proposed  that  Telly  should 
drive  to  the  head  of  the  island  in  his  place. 

"  I'm  sorry  ye  must  leave  us,  Mr.  Page,"  he  said, 
when  Albert  was  ready  to  bid  the  old  folks  good-by. 
"  I  wish  ye  could  stay  longer ;  but  cum  again  soon, 
an'  remember,  our  latch-string's  allus  out  fer  ye." 

When  the  old  carryall  had  made  half  its  daily  jour 
ney,  Albert  pointed  to  a  low  rock  and  said,  "  There 
is  a  spot  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  see,  for  it  was  there 
Uncle  Terry  first  found  me." 

Telly  made  no  answer ;  in  fact  she  had  said  but  little 
since  they  started,  and  soon  the  hardest  part  of  life 
and  living,  that  of  separating  from  those  who  seem 


312  UNCLE   TERRY 

near  and  dear  to  us,  was  drawing  near.     When  they 
reached  the  little  landing,  no  one  else  was  there.     No 
house  was  in  sight  of  it,  and  the  solitude  was  broken 
only  by  the  tide  that  softly  caressed  the  barnacled  piles 
of  the  wharf  and  the  weed-covered  rocks  on  either  side. 
No  boat  was  visible  adown  the  wide  reach  that  sepa 
rates  Southport  Island  from  the  mainland,  and  up  it 
came  a  light  sea  breeze  that  barely  rippled  the  flowing 
tide  and  whispered  through  the  brown  and  scarlet 
leaved  thicket  back  of  them.      Over  all  shone  the 
hazy  sunlight  of  October.     It  is  likely  that  a  touch 
of  regret  for  the  sacrifice   she   had   made   came   to 
Telly  as  she  stood  listening  and  hoping  that  the  boat 
which  was  due  would  be  late  in  coming,  for  a  look  of 
sadness  came  over  her  face,  and  a  more  than  usually 
plaintive  appeal  in  her  expressive  eyes.     "  I  am  sorry 
you  are  going,"  she  said ;  "  it  is  so  lonesome  here,  and 
it  will  seem  more  so  now."     Then  as  if  that  was  a 
confession  he  might  think  unmaidenly,  she  added,  "  I 
dread  to  have  the  summer  end,  for  when  winter  comes, 
the  rocks  all  around  seem  like  so  many  tombstones." 

He  was  watching  her  as  she  spoke,  and  the  little 
note  of  sorrow  in  her  voice  gave  him  a  hope  that  she 
might  relent  at  the  last  moment,  and  give  him  the 
promise  he  wanted  so  much.  He  put  out  his  hand  as 
if  that  would  aid  his  appeal,  and  as  his  fingers  closed 


A   NAMELESS   COVE  313 

over  hers  he  said,  "  I  am  going  away  with  a  heavy 
heart,  Telly,  and  when  I  can  come  back  is  hard  to  say. 
Will  you  not  promise  me  that  some  time,  no  matter 
when,  you  will  be  my  own  good  and  true  wife  ?  Let 
me  go  away  with  that  hope  to  comfort  me  while  I 
work  and  save  for  a  home  for  us  both.  Will  you, 
Telly?" 

But  the  plaintive  face  was  turned  away,  perhaps  to 
hide  the  tears.  Then  once  more  an  arm  stole  around 
her  waist,  and  as  he  drew  her  close,  she  whispered, 
"  When  I  am  no  longer  needed  here,  if  you  want  me 
then  I  will  come  to  you." 

She  was  sobbing  now,  but  her  head  was  resting  on 
his  shoulder,  and  as  he  kissed  her  closed  eyes  and  un 
resisting  lips,  a  boat's  sharp  whistle  broke  the  sacred 
spell. 

"  Go  a  little  way  back,  my  darling,"  he  whispered, 
"  until  the  boat  is  gone.  I  do  not  want  any  one  to 
see  you  have  been  crying." 

When  her  misty  eyes  could  no  longer  see  the  boat 
that  bore  her  heart  away,  she  turned,  and  all  the  long, 
lonely  way  back  love's  tears  lingered  on  her  lashes. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

AMID   FALLING   LEAVES 

THE  mountains  around  Sandgate  were  aflame  with 
the  scarlet  and  gold  of  autumn  before  life  seemed 
quite  as  usual  to  Alice  Page.  The  summer  idyl  had 
passed,  and  though  it  left  a  scar  on  her  heart,  she  had 
resolutely  determined  to  put  the  sweet  illusion  out  of 
her  mind.  "  I  was  very  foolish  to  let  him  see  that  I 
cared,"  she  thought,  "  for  it  can  never  be,  and  by  and 
by  he  will  forget  me,  or  if  he  does  think  of  me,  it  will 
be  to  recall  me  as  one  of  his  summer  girls  who  had  a 
fit  of  silliness." 

But  for  all  that  her  heart  ached  at  times,  and  in 
spite  of  all  resolution  her  fingers  would  once  in  a 
while  stray  to  the  chords  of  "  Ben  Bolt."  She  tried, 
and  fairly  succeeded  in  answering  his  letters  in  a  cool, 
matter-of-fact  way.  Occasionally  when  he  referred 
to  his  heart  hunger,  and  how  hard  he  was  studying  in 
hopes  that  she  might  think  better  of  him,  she  wished 
that  he  had  no  purse-proud  and  haughty  mother  to 
stand  between  him  and  a  poor  girl,  and  her  next  letter 


AMID  FALLING  LEAVES  315 

would  be  more  chilly  than  ever.  What  perhaps  was  a 
bitter-sweet  thought  was  the  fact  that  the  colder  she 
answered  him,  the  warmer  his  next  letter  would  be. 
Unwisely,  too,  he  happened  to  mention  once  that  his 
mother  had  spoken  of  a  certain  young  lady  who  be 
longed  to  the  cream  of  Boston  society  as  an  eligible 
match,  and  advised  him  to  show  her  a  little  attention. 
It  was  really  of  no  moment,  yet  it  hardened  Alice 
against  his  mother,  and  did  not  help  his  cause. 

Every  Sunday  she  took  her  wonted  place  in  the 
choir,  and  after  church  occasionally  walked  alone  to 
the  cemetery  and  visited  her  mother's  grave.  Then, 
too,  her  brother's  letters  grew  less  frequent,  and  that 
was  a  source  of  pain.  With  intuitive  and  feminine 
instinct  she  began  to  assume  that  some  woman  was 
winning  his  thoughts,  and  as  it  was  but  natural,  she 
could  not  and  did  not  mention  her  belief  to  him. 
How  grateful  she  was  all  through  those  melancholy 
autumn  days  that  she  had  a  large  school  to  absorb  her 
thoughts,  no  one,  not  even  Aunt  Susan,  guessed. 
She  was  having  a  long  and  hard  fight  with  her  own 
feelings  and  imagined  she  had  conquered  them,  when 
Thanksgiving  time  drew  near  and  her  brother  an 
nounced  he  would  run  up  and  spend  the  day  with 
her.  She  almost  cried  for  joy  at  the  good  news,  for 
poor,  pretty,  and  proud-spirited  Alice  Page  was  feel- 


316  UNCLE  TERRY 

ing  very  heart-hungry  when  the  letter  came.  He  was 
just  a  little  surprised  at  her  vehement  welcome. 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  so  lonesome,  Bertie,"  she  said 
when  they  were  alone  together,  "  and  the  evenings 
drag  by  so  slowly!  Then  you  do  not  write  me  as 
often  or  such  nice  letters  as  formerly,  and  Aunt 
Susan  never  seems  to  notice  that  I  am  blue.  If  it 
were  not  for  my  school,  I  should  go  crazy,  I  think." 

His  heart  smote  him  as  he  thought  of  a  certain 
other  blue-eyed  girl  who  was  now  occupying  his 
thoughts  to  the  partial  exclusion  of  this  loving  sister, 
and  of  whom  he  had  meant  to  tell  Alice.  In  an  in 
stant  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would  hurt  her  now 
to  know  it,  and  that  he  had  best  keep  it  to  himself. 

"  I  am  very  busy  these  days,  sis,"  he  replied,  "  and 
my  mind  is  all  taken  up  with  work.  Mr.  Nason's 
business  is  increasing  and  I  have  a  good  many  clients 
besides  him."  Then  as  if  to  draw  her  out,  he  added : 
"  How  did  you  like  Blanch  Nason  ?  " 

"Oh,  she  was  very  nice,"  replied  Alice  coolly, 
"  and  if  she  were  a  poor  girl  and  lived  here  I  could 
easily  learn  to  love  her.  As  it  is,  it  is  useless  for  me 
to  think  of  her  as  a  friend.  It  was  good  of  her  to 
pay  me  a  visit,  though,  and  I  enjoyed  every  minute 
of  it." 

"  And  what  about  Frank  ?  "  queried  Albert,  eyeing 


AMID   FALLING  LEAVES  817 

his  sister  with  a  smile ;  "  did  he  not  say  a  lot  of  sweet 
things  to  you  ?  " 

Alice  colored. 

"  Oh,  he  is  nice  enough,"  she  answered,  "  and  tried 
to  make  me  believe  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  me, 
but  it  won't  do  'any  good.  I  am  sure  his  managing 
mamma  will  marry  him  to  some  thin  girl  with  a  fat 
purse,  or  aristocratic  family,  which,  I  imagine,  is  of 
more  consequence  to  her." 

Albert  gave  a  low  and  prolonged  whistle. 

"So  that  is  the  way  the  wind  blows,  my  sweet 
sister,  is  it  ?  "  he  observed ;  "  and  yet  my  possible 
future  law  partner  has  been  humming  'Ben  Bolt' 
nearly  every  day  for  the  past  two  months !  I  made 
believe  you  must  have  smiled  on  him  very  sweetly 
when  he  was  here." 

The  thought  of  one  day  when  she  had  done  more 
than  smile  at  this  young  man  brought  even  a  deeper 
color  than  before  to  her  face. 

"Please  do  not  say  any  more  about  him,  Bert," 
she  answered  with  a  little  pain  in  her  voice ;  "  he  is 
all  right,  but  I  am  too  poor  and  too  proud  to  satisfy 
his  mother,  so  that  is  all  there  is  or  ever  will  be  to 
it."  Then  she  added  in  self-protection,  "  Tell  me 
about  the  island  girl  I  heard  you  fell  in  love  with  on 
the  yachting-trip,  and  for  whom  you  deserted  the 


318  UNCLE   TERRY 

crowd,"  It  was  his  turn  to  look  confused,  and  he 
did,  in  a  way  that  smote  his  keen-eyed  sister  with 
sudden  dread.  "It  is  true,  Bertie,"  she  said  quickly; 
"  I  can  see  it  in  your  face.  That  explains  your  short 
letters."  A  little  quiver  passed  over  her  lips  and 
down  the  round  chin  like  a  tiny  ripple  on  still  water, 
and  she  added  pathetically,  "I  hated  to  believe  it, 
but  it  cannot  be  helped,  I  suppose.  I  shall  feel  more 
desolate  now  than  ever."  Then  womanlike  she  said, 
"  Is  she  very  pretty,  Bertie  ?  She  must  be,  or  you 
would  not  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  so  soon." 

There  was  no  use  in  concealment  or  evasion,  and 
it  was  not  like  him  to  resort  to  either.  "  Alice,  my 
sweet  little  sister,"  he  replied,  resolutely  drawing  his 
chair  near  and  taking  her  hand,  "it  is  true,  and  I 
intended  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  only  I  hated  to  do  it 
at  first,  and  so  put  it  off.  She  is  more  than  pretty, 
she  is  beautiful,  and  the  most  unaffected  and  tender 
hearted  girl  I  ever  met.  But  you  need  not  worry. 
She  is  so  devoted  to  the  two  old  people  who  have 
brought  her  up  as  their  own  that  she  will  not  leave 
them  for  me  as  long  as  they  live."  Then  he  added 
regretfully,  "So  you  see  I  must  be  a  patient  waiter 
for  a  long  time  yet."  Then  he  frankly  told  Alice  the 
entire  story  of  his  waif  of  the  sea,  and  how  even  at  the 
last  moment  she  had  refused  to  yield  to  his  pleading. 


AMID   FALLIHG   LEAVES  319 

"  And  now,  sweet  sister,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  have  a 
plan  to  unfold,  and  I  want  you  to  consider  it  well.  I 
am  now  earning  enough  to  maintain  a  home,  and  I 
am  sick  and  tired  of  boarding-house  life.  It  is  not 
likely  I  shall  marry  the  girl  I  love  for  many  years  to 
come,  and  there  is  no  need  for  us  to  be  separated  in 
this  way.  I  think  it  is  best  that  we  close  the  house, 
or  rent  it  for  the  present,  and  you  and  Aunt  Susan 
come  to  Boston.  I  can  hire  a  pretty  flat,  and  we 
can  take  down  such  of  the  furniture  as  we  need,  and 
store  the  rest.  What  do  you  think  of  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  glad  of  the  change,  Bertie  !"  she 
answered,  brightening ;  "  it  is  so  desolate  here,  and 
you  do  not  know  how  I  dread  the  long  winter."  And 
then  she  added  quickly,  "  But  what  can  I  do  in 
Boston  ?  I  cannot  be  idle  ;  I  should  not  be  contented 
if  I  were." 

"Will  not  housekeeping  for  me  be  occupation 
enough  ?  "  he  answered,  smiling,  "  or  you  might  give 
music  lessons  and  study  shorthand.  I  need  a  type 
writer  even  now,  and  in  a  few  months  must  have  one." 

She  was  silent,  considering  the  matter  in  its  various 
bearings  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said :  "  But 
what  will  Aunt  Susan  think  of  the  change,  and  it 
will  be  such  a  change  for  her ;  like  going  into  a  new 
world  I " 


320  UNCLE  TERRY 

"  Well,  she  will  have  to  get  used  to  it,"  he  answered ; 
"  at  any  rate,  it  is  not  wise  for  us  to  go  on  in  this 
way  solely  for  her  comfort." 

Then,  as  Alice  began  to  realize  what  it  meant  to 
bid  good-by  to  the  scenes  of  her  childhood,  the  old 
home,  the  great  trees  in  front,  the  broad  meadows, 
the  brook  that  rippled  through  them,  the  little  church 
where  every  one  greeted  her  with  a  smile,  and  the 
grand  old  hills  that  surrounded  Sandgate's  peaceful 
valley,  her  heart  began  to  sink.  Then  she  thought 
of  the  pleasant  woods  where  she  had  so  often  gone 
nutting  in  autumn,  the  old  mill-pond  where  every 
summer  since  babyhood  she  had  gathered  lilies,  and 
even  those  barefooted  school-children  of  hers,  every  one 
of  whom  had  come  to  love  the  pretty  teacher,  came 
into  her  thoughts.  Life  in  Sandgate  did  not  seem  so 
desolate  to  her  as  it  had,  and  the  thought  of  going 
away  grew  less  attractive. 

"  I  shall  dislike  to  go,  after  all,"  she  said  at  last, 
"but  perhaps  it  is  best.  I  shall  cry  when  I  leave 
here,  I  know,  and  be  very  homesick  for  a  spell, 
but  then  I  shall  have  you,  and  that  is  a  good  deal." 
Then  this  mingled  clouds  and  sunshine  of  a  girl 
deliberately  rose,  and  like  a  big  baby,  crept  into  her 
brother's  lap,  and  tucking  her  sunny  head  under  his 
chin,  whispered,  "  Oh,  if  you  were  never  going  to  be 


AMID   FALLING   LEAVES  321 

married,  Bertie,  I  would  leave  it  all  and  try  to  be  con 
tented.  I  could  come  up  here  every  summer,  and  go 
the  rounds,  could  I  not?"  Then  she  added  discon 
solately,  "  But  you  will  get  married,  and  in  less  than 
a  year,  too.  I  know  it.  Your  beautiful  island  girl 
cannot  and  will  not  keep  you  waiting  so  long.  I 
could  not  if  I  were  she,  I  know." 

Then  that  big  brother,  blessed  with  such  an  adora 
ble  sister,  raised  her  face  so  he  could  look  into  her  blue 
eyes  and  said,  "  No  sweetheart  and  no  wife  shall  ever 
lessen  my  love  for  you,  Alice,  who  have  been  my 
playmate,  my  companion,  and  my  confidant  all  my 
life.  And  if  you  are  likely  to  be  homesick  and  un 
happy  in  Boston,  we  will  abandon  the  plan  at  once." 

"  Let  me  think  about  it  a  few  weeks  first,"  she 
replied.  "  I  could  not  go  away  until  this  term  of 
school  is  over,  and  that  will  not  be  till  Christmas." 

Then  after  those  two  good  friends  had  discussed 
the  proposed  step  in  all  its  bearings  for  a  half  hour 
Albert  said,  "  Come,  now,  sis,  sing  a  little  for  me ; 
I  am  hungry  to  hear  you  once  more." 

She  complied  willingly,  and  as  the  mischievous 
heartbreaker  never  forgot  to  pay  an  old  score,  the 
moment  she  was  seated  at  the  piano  she  began  with 
"  Hold  the  Fort,"  and  singing  every  verse  of  that, 
followed  it  with  "  Pull  for  the  Shore." 


322  UNCLE   TERRY 

Her  brother  never  winced,  and  after  she  had  in 
flicted  two  more  of  those  well-worn  gospel  hymns 
upon  him  he  quietly  remarked,  "My  dear  sis,  you 
are  not  punishing  me  for  what  I  once  said  half  as  much 
as  you  think  you  are.  Sing  some  more  of  them ;  they 
sound  like  old  times."  And  it  was  true,  too. 

The  latest  and  most  classic  compositions  are  all 
very  well  for  highly  cultured  ears  afflicted  with  Wag- 
nerian  delirium ;  but  for  plain,  ordinary  country-born 
people,  such  as  Albert  was,  there  is  a  sweet  associa 
tion  in  the  old  songs  first  heard  in  childhood  that  no 
classic  productions  can  usurp.  The  "  Quilting  Party  " 
will  surely  recall  some  moonlight  walk  home  with  a 
boyhood  sweetheart  along  a  maple-shaded  lane,  when 
"  on  your  arm  a  soft  hand  rested,"  and  "  Money  Musk  " 
will  carry  you  back  to  a  lantern-lit  barn  floor  with  one 
fiddler  perched  on  a  pile  of  meal  bags ;  and  how  de 
lightful  it  was  to  clasp  that  same  sweet  girl's  waist 
when  "  balance  and  swing "  came  echoing  from  the 
rafters. 

And  so  that  evening,  as  the  piquant  voice  of  Alice 
Page  trilled  the  list  from  "  Lily  Dale  "  to  "  Suwanee 
River"  and  back  to  "  Bonny  Eloise  "  and  "  Patter  of 
the  Rain,"  Albert  lazily  puffed  his  cigar  and  lived 
over  his  boyhood  days. 

When  the  concert  was  ended  he  exclaimed : 


AMID   FALLING   LEAVES  323 

"  Do  you  know,  sis,  that  an  evening  like  this  in 
Boston  would  seem  like  a  little  taste  of  heaven  to  me, 
after  I  came  back  from  the  all-day  grind  among  hard 
hearted,  selfish  men  who  think  only  of  the  mighty 
dollar !  And  now  you  see  why  I  want  you  to  come 
to  Boston  to  live." 

It  pleased  that  loving  sister  of  his  wonderfully,  for 
as  yet  her  brother  was  far  dearer  than  any  other  liv 
ing  person.     No  lover  had  so  far  usurped  his  place 
or  seemed  to  her  as  likely  to.     She  gave  him  a  grate 
ful  look  and  smile  that  prompted  him  to  say: 

"  Now  I  will  look  around  before  Christmas  and  see 
what  kind  of  a  flat  can  be  found,  and  then  when  your 
school  closes  you  must  come  down  and  visit  me  and 
see  how  you  like  Boston." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  just  delightful,"  was  the  re 
joinder,  "  only  you  must  promise  not  to  tell  the 
Nasons  that  I  am  coming." 

"  But  if  they  find  it  out,  Blanch  and  Frank  would 
feel  bitterly  hurt,"  he  replied ;  "  remember,  they  did 
you  the  honor  of  coming  up  here  to  visit  you,  and 
Blanch  has  said  to  me  several  times  that  she  hoped 
you  would  visit  her  this  winter." 

"  I  should  love  to,"  replied  Alice,  hesitating,  "  but 
—  well,  I  will  tell  you  what  we  can  do :  we  will 
wait  until  the  day  before  I  am  to  return,  and  then  we 


324  UNCLE   TERRY 

can  call  there  one  evening.  They  need  not  know 
how  long  I  have  been  in  Boston." 

Albert  looked  curiously  at  his  sister.  "  I  think  I 
understand  you,  sis,"  he  observed,  "  and  that  is  right ; 
but  is  it  not  a  little  rough  on  Frank  ?  He  has  settled 
down  to  hard  study  and  sticks  to  it,  and  really  is  an 
exemplary  young  man  and  a  good  fellow.  I  am  grow 
ing  very  fond  of  him,  and  should  dislike  to  have  you 
actually  offend  him." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  offend  him,  by  any  means,"  said 
Alice  soberly,  "and  neither  do  I  want  him  or  his 
haughty  mother  to  think  I  am  disposed  to  put  myself 
in  his  way.  If  he  wants  to  see  me,  let  him  come 
here." 

The  next  day  Albert  and  Alice  felt  obliged  to 
attend  church,  as  all  the  good  people  of  Sandgate 
usually  so  observed  Thanksgiving  day,  and  he  was 
gladdened  by  many  a  cordial  handshake  and  kindly 
inquiry  from  old  friends.  Alice  as  usual  sang  in  the 
choir,  and  when  the  services  were  over  they  returned, 
to  find  that  Aunt  Susan  had  the  honored  emblem 
of  the  day  well  browned  and  ready  for  the  table.  In 
a  way  the  meal  was  a  trifle  saddened,  for  in  spite  of 
the  good  cheer,  it  brought  back  to  all  three  recollec 
tions  of  those  who  would  never  more  be  present. 
And  that  evening  both  brother  and  sister  called  on 


AMID   FALLING    LEAVES  325 

Abby  Miles,  more  to  escape  the  home  mood  than  to 
enjoy  her  society. 

When  morning  and  departure  came  Albert  said: 
"  I  will  do  as  you  wish,  sweet  sister,  and  unless  some 
of  the  Nasons  should  meet  us  at  a  theatre,  I  imagine 
it  will  work  all  right.  Only  it  is  a  little  rough  on 
Frank,  after  all." 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

THE   OLD    SONGS 

INFLUENCED  by  time,  place,  and  the  earnest  plead 
ing  of  her  admirer,  Alice  Page  had,  on  that  summer 
afternoon  by  the  mill-pond,  stepped  a  little  from  her 
pedestal  of  pride.  In  a  way,  too,  her  feelings  were 
touched,  at  least  enough  to  give  her  many  an  hour's 
heartache  afterwards  while  she  was  resolutely  putting 
the  sweet  illusion  out  of  her  mind.  But  no  one,  not 
even  her  brother,  knew  it,  and  only  Aunt  Susan  sus 
pected,  and  she  wisely  kept  her  counsel,  hoping  that 
all  would  come  right  in  the  end. 

The  proposed  change  did  not  seem  to  disturb  her 
much,  although  Alice  noticed  that  she  was  more 
quiet  than  ever  and  avoided  that  subject. 

"  I'm  ready  an?  willin'  to  go  if  you  think  best,"  she 
said ;  "  and  I'll  do  my  best  as  long  as  I  can.  I  hain't 
got  long  to  stay,  and  if  I  see  you  two  happy,  I'm  con 
tent." 

It  was  the  pathos  of  old  age,  and  it  touched  Alice's 
heart. 


THE   OLD    SONGS  327 

Two  weeks  before  Christmas  came  a  cordial  letter 
from  Blanch,  reminding  Alice  of  her  promise  to  visit 
her  during  the  holidays  and  insisting  that  she  do  so 
now.  With  it  was  enclosed  an  equally  cordial  but 
brief  note  of  invitation  from  Mrs.  Nason.  Alice 
replied  to  both  in  due  form  and  with  profuse  thanks, 
also  stating  that  she  had  promised  her  brother  she 
would  visit  him  during  her  vacation,  and  hoped  to 
have  one  or  two  evenings  with  them  at  that  time. 

"I  will  let  them  see  I  am  not  a  deserted  tabby- 
cat,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  waiting  around  in  the  cold 
until  some  one  opens  a  door  for  me."  And  then  this 
proud  little  country  girl  enclosed  both  notes  to  her 
brother  and  told  him  he  had  best  inform  the  Nasons 
of  her  intended  visit  in  a  matter-of-fact  way.  "  But 
mind,"  she  added,  "you  do  not  let  on  that  you  know 
they  have  invited  me  to  visit  them.  We  will  do  just 
as  we  talked,  go  there  and  spend  one  or  two  evenings, 
or  perhaps  I  may  meet  them  at  a  theatre,  which  would 
be  much  better." 

By  return  mail  came  his  assurance  of  obedience 
and  a  sizable  check.  "  Use  it  all,  my  dear  sis,"  he 
wrote,  "  and  for  your  own  needs,  too.  I  do  not  want 
you  to  feel  ashamed  of  your  gowns  when  you  come  to 
Boston." 

"  Bless  his  dear  heart,"  said  Alice,  when  she  read 


328  UNCLE   TEEKY 

the  letter,  "  what  a  prize  that  island  girl  will  get  in 
him !  "  And  then  she  came  near  crying  at  the  thought 
of  that  possible  outcome.  But  when  Chrismas  came 
and  she  kissed  Aunt  Susan  good-by,  she  was  near 
giving  up  the  trip  altogether.  It  may  have  been  the 
sad  face  of  her  aunt  that  brought  the  irresolution,  or 
a  feeling  that  meeting  Frank  would  re-awaken  the 
little  heartache  she  had  for  five  months  been  trying 
to  conquer ;  for  this  proud  girl  had  firmly  made  up 
her  mind  that  she  would  utter  a  very  decided  "  no  " 
if  Frank  proposed  again.  When  she  reached  Boston 
she  was  met  by  her  brother,  and  for  three  days  he 
devoted  his  entire  time  to  her. 

"  I  have  not  told  Frank,  even,  when  you  were  com 
ing,"  he  observed,  "  and  shall  not  let  them  know  you 
are  here  until  we  call."  Then  he  added,  smiling,  "  I 
want  you  to  myself  for  a  few  days,  because  after 
Frank  knows  you  are  here  I  am  sure  to  be  one  too 
many  most  of  the  time." 

"  Not  on  his  account,  you'll  not  be,"  replied  Alice 
with  a  snap,  and  it  is  likely  that  moment  she  meant  it 
too. 

And  what  a  gallant  escort  that  brother  was  !  And 
what  a  change  from  the  dull  monotony  of  her  home 
life  those  days  were  to  Alice  ! 

They  hunted   for  houses  and  visited  art  galleries 


THE   OLD   SONGS  329 

mornings,  lunched  at  Parker's  at  noon,  and  devoted 
the  afternoons  and  evenings  to  theatres.  Then  after 
that  usually  a  tSte-d-tete  supper  at  a  cozy  place  where 
the  best  was  to  be  had,  and  a  little  chat  in  his  or  her 
room  before  retiring.  It  was  during  one  of  these 
brief  visits  that  she  noticed  some  of  the  pictures  that 
hung  in  his  room. 

"  Who  painted  that  shipwreck  scene  ?  "  she  asked, 
looking  at  one.  "It  is  a  gem,  and  those  poor  sailors 
clinging  to  the  ice-covered  rigging  are  enough  to 
make  one  shiver.  And  those  awful  waves,  too,  are 
simply  terrifying.  And  what  a  pretty  scene  is  this 
wild  tangle  of  rocks  with  a  girl  leaning  on  one  and 
looking  out  on  the  ocean  where  the  sun  is  setting  or 
rising,"  she  continued  as  she  viewed  the  next  one. 
Then  as  she  examined  it  a  little  closer  she  added, 
"  Who  is  E.  T.?"  Albert  made  no  answer  and  she 
passed  to  a  third  one  showing  a  little  rippled  cove 
with  the  ocean  beyond  and  a  girl  seated  in  the  shade 
of  a  small  spruce  tree. 

"  Why,  this  is  by  E.  T.  too,"  she  exclaimed,  and 
turning  to  her  brother  she  repeated,  u  who  is  E.  T.  ?  " 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "I  will  take  you  down  to 
the  island  some  time  and  introduce  you  to  her.  She 
will  be  glad  to  meet  my  sister,  you  may  be  certain." 

Then  it  all  flashed  over  Alice,  and  the  brief  history 


330  UNCLE   TERRY 

of  this  girl,  as  her  brother  had  told  it,  came  back  to 
her  in  an  instant.  "So  that  was  the  wreck  she 
floated  ashore  from,  was  it,  Bert?  "  she  asked;  "and 
can  she  paint  like  that  ?  Why,  I  am  astonished  ! 
And  who  is  the  girl  leaning  on  the  rock  ?  "  she  added ; 
"  and  what  an  exquisitely  molded  figure !  And  what 
a  pretty  pose  !  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"That  is  your  possible  sister-in-law,"  answered 
Albert  with  a  touch  of  pride,  "  and  the  pictures  were 
done  by  her  from  sketches  I  first  made  myself.  They 
are  true  to  life  so  far  as  all  details  go,  only  I  failed  to 
catch  her  expressive  face  in  the  one  that  shows  a 
front  view  of  her." 

"  And  so  that  was  the  way  you  wooed  your  island 
goddess,  was  it  ?  "  observed  Alice  with  a  roguish  look ; 
"  made  her  pose  for  a  sketch  while  you  said  sweet 
things  to  her."  Then  with  a  woman's  curiosity  she 
added,  "  Have  you  a  picture  of  her  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have  not,"  he  replied ; 
"  remember,  she  has  been  hidden  away  on  an  island 
all  her  life,  and  I  doubt  if  she  ever  had  a  picture 
taken." 

"  And  when  will  you  take  me  to  see  her?"  asked 
Alice.  "  I  am  so  anxious  to  meet  this  fairy  of  the 
shore  who  has  stolen  my  brother's  heart.  Can't  we 
go  down  there  before  I  return  home  ?  " 


THE   OLD   SONGS  831 

"We  can,"  he  added,  "but  I  think  we'd  better 
wait  until  spring." 

The  next  day  he  informed  her  he  had  secured  a 
box  at  the  Tremont  for  that  evening,  and  had  invited 
the  Nasons  to  join  them.  "  I  thought  it  would  re 
lieve  your  mind  a  little,  Alice,"  he  added,  "  to  meet 
your  bogie  on  neutral  ground."  And  it  did. 

But  Mrs.  Nason  was  a  long  way  from  being  the 
haughty  spectre  Alice  had  conjured  up,  and  like  many 
excellent  mothers  was  simply  interested  to  see  that  her 
only  and  impetuous  son  did  not  make  a  mesalliance. 
While  she  had  wisely  made  no  comment  regarding 
her  son's  apparent  disappointment,  what  Blanch  had 
said,  together  with  that  fact,  had  won  for  Alice  a 
respect  she  was  totally  unaware  of.  That  a  poor  and 
pretty  country  schoolma'am  was  proud  enough  to  dis 
courage  that  son's  attentions  because  of  the  difference 
in  their  positions  was  an  unusual  experience  to  her 
and  one  that  awakened  her  curiosity.  "  I  should  like 
to  meet  Miss  Page,"  she  said  to  Blanch  when  the 
latter  had  asked  if  she  might  invite  her  to  visit  them, 
"  and  see  what  she  is  like.  A  girl  that  shows  the 
spirit  she  does  is  certainly  worth  cultivating,  and  as 
she  entertained  you  so  nicely,  by  all  means  let  us 
return  the  obligation." 

When  Alice's  cool  but  polite  note  reached  Mrs. 


332  UNCLE   TERRY 

Nason,  she  was  piqued  to  even  a  greater  degree  of 
curiosity,  and  when  Albert's  courteous  letter,  invit 
ing  "  Mrs.  Nason  and  family  to  share  a  box  at  the 
Tremont  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  my  sister  "  was 
received,  she  returned  a  cordial  acceptance  by  bearer. 

To  Alice  the  proposed  meeting  was  a  source  of 
dread,  and  when  the  carriage  called  for  Albert  and 
herself  she  was  in  an  excited  state  of  mind,  and 
maybe  it  was  not  all  on  account  of  Mrs.  Nason  either. 
They  had  barely  taken  their  seats  in  the  box,  and  the 
orchestra  had  only  just  begun  the  overture,  when  the 
usher  knocked  and  Blanch,  followed  by  the  rest  of 
the  family,  entered.  That  young  lady  greeted  Alice 
with  an  effusive  kiss  at  once,  and  the  next  instant 
she  found  herself  shaking  hands  with  a  rotund  and 
gray-haired  lady  of  dignified  bearing,  but  of  very  kind 
and  courteous  manner.  An  introduction  to  Edith 
followed,  and  then  Frank  acknowledged  her  polite 
"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Nason  ?  "  with  his  very  best  bow. 

Their  meeting  was  the  most  formal  of  any,  as 
Alice  evidently  wished  it  to  be,  since  she  did  not 
offer  her  hand,  and  then  she  insisted  that  Mrs.  Nason 
and  her  two  daughters  occupy  the  front  chairs. 

"  You  are  our  guests  this  evening,"  said  Alice  with 
quiet  dignity,  when  Blanch  urged  her  to  take  one, 
"  and  so  must  pardon  me  for  insisting." 


THE   OLD   SONGS  333 

Then  the  play  began,  and  by  the  time  the  first  act 
was  over  Alice  had  taken  a  mental  inventory  of  her 
"  bogie "  and  made  up  her  mind  that  she  was  no 
bogie  at  all.  When  the  curtain  fell,  Mrs.  Nason 
began  chatting  with  Alice  in  the  pleasantest  way 
possible,  arid  with  seemingly  cordial  interest  in  all  she 
said,  while  Blanch  wisely  kept  quiet  and  Edith  de 
voted  herself  to  Albert.  It  was  after  the  second  cur 
tain  when  Mrs.  Nason  said  :  "  I  must  insist  that  you 
divide  your  visit  with  us,  Miss  Page,  and  allow  us 
to  return  a  little  of  your  hospitality.  Of  course  I 
understand  that  your  brother  comes  first,  and  rightly 
too,  but  we  must  claim  a  part  of  your  time." 

"I  had  promised  myself  one  or  two  evenings  at 
your  home,"  Alice  answered  quietly,  "  but  I  do  not 
feel  that  I  ought  to  desert  Bertie  more  than  that." 

Then  for  the  first  time  Blanch  put  in  her  little 
word  :  "  Now  do  not  offer  your  brother  as  an  excuse," 
she  said,  "  for  it  will  not  do  a  bit  of  good.  I  have 
been  anticipating  your  promised  visit  for  a  long  time, 
and  no  brother  is  going  to  rob  me  of  it.  I  shall  come 
around  to-morrow  forenoon  with  the  coachman,  and  if 
you  are  not  ready  to  go  back  with  me,  bag  and  bag 
gage,  I  will  take  your  baggage,  and  then  you  will 
have  to  come." 

Alice  smiled  at  this  vehement  cordiality. 


334  UNCLE  TERRY 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  cannot  see  your  brother  and 
visit  with  him  just  as  well  at  our  house,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Nason ;  "  he  is  always  welcome  there,  and  he  knows 
it,  I  am  sure." 

Alice  turned  to  her  brother,  remarking  :  "  It  is  nice 
of  you  to  insist,  and  I  am  more  than  grateful,  but  it 
must  be  as  he  says."  Then  she  added  prettily :  "  He 
is  my  papa  and  mamma  now,  and  the  cook  and  captain 
bold,  and  mate  of  the  '  Nancy '  brig  as  well." 

"  I  will  stir  up  a  mutiny  on  the  4  Nancy '  brig  if  he 
does  not  consent,"  laughed  Blanch,  "  so  there  is  an 
end  to  that ;  and  you  must  be  ready  at  ten  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  4  haughty  mother ' 
now  ?  "  observed  Albert,  after  the  Nasons  had  rolled 
away  in  their  carriage.  "  Is  she  the  awful  spectre  you 
imagined  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  nice  enough,"  answered  Alice,  "  only  it 
is  just  as  well  to  let  her  see  I  need  a  little  urging." 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

SOCIETY 

THREE  more  days  of  Alice's  visit  in  Boston  had 
passed,  and  quickly  to  her.  Blanch  had  kept  her 
threat,  and  literally  taken  possession  of  her  new 
friend,  and  installed  her  in  the  guest  room  of  the  Na- 
son  residence.  Then  she  set  out  to  entertain  Alice  to 
the  best  of  her  ample  ability.  To  be  taken  in  hand,  as 
it  were,  by  a  highly  cultured  and  wealthy  young 
lady,  and  to  have  a  liveried  and  obsequious  coachman 
on  duty  to  convey  them  anywhere  and  everywhere,  was 
a  new  experience,  and  a  decided  change  from  Sandgate. 
The  two  went  shopping  mornings,  and  to  matine'es  or 
made  calls  afternoons,  or  discussed  styles  and  effects 
with  modistes  ;  evenings  it  was  a  theatre  or  else  a  quiet 
evening  at  home,  when  Mr.  Nason  was  in  evidence. 
As  for  Frank,  he  was  barely  allowed  the  privilege  of 
procuring  tickets  and  buying  bonbons,  or  else  making 
one  of  a  rubber  of  whist.  "  Don't  you  dare  to  say 
any  sweet  things  while  she  is  here,"  Blanch  had  cau 
tioned  him  at  the  outset.  "  In  the  first  place  it  is  not 


336  UNCLE  TEBKY 

good  form,  and  in  the  second  it  would  offend  her. 
Be  as  gallant  as  you  know  how,  but  do  not  let  mamma 
see  that  you  are  any  more  attentive  to  Alice  than  to 
Ede  and  I.  If  you  hope  to  win  your  pretty  school- 
ma'am  you  must  pay  your  court  in  her  own  home, 
not  here."  It  is  needless  to  say  Frank  obeyed.  It 
was  not  long  ere  Alice  began  to  feel  herself  quite  at 
home  in  the  Nason  family,  and  to  notice  that  Mrs. 
Nason  treated  her  in  a  motherly  way  which  was  both 
nice  and  kind.  That  excellent  lady  also  expressed  a 
warm  sympathy  for  Alice  in  her  orphaned  condition, 
and  showed  an  interest  in  her  occupation  at  home. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  fond  of  your  little  charges," 
she  said,  after  Alice  had  described  her  school  and 
some  of  the  peculiarities  of  her  pupils  who  wore  out 
grown  roundabouts  or  calico  pinafores,  "  and  I  sup 
pose  they  grow  fond  of  you  as  well." 

"  I  try  to  make  them,"  replied  Alice,  "  and  I  find 
that  is  the  easiest  way  to  govern  them.  I  seldom  have 
to  punish  any  one,  and  when  I  do  it  hurts  me  more 
than  the  culprit.  In  a  way,  children  are  like  grown 
people  and  a  little  tact  and  a  few  words  said  in  the 
right  way  are  more  potent  than  fear  of  punishment." 

"  And  do  you  not  find  life  in  so  small  a  place  rather 
monotonous  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Nason. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Alice,  "  it  is  not  much  like  city 


SOCIETY  337 

life  as  I  understand  it ;  but  having  lived  in  the  coun 
try  all  my  life,  as  I  have,  I  am  accustomed  to  it  and 
do  not  mind.  It  is  delightful  to  have  theatres  and 
the  excitement  of  social  duties,  as  I  imagine  you 
have  all  the  time,  and  yet  I  am  not  sure  I  should  like 
it.  I  fancy  once  in  a  while  I  should  sigh  for  a  shady 
spot  in  the  woods  in  summer  where  I  could  read  a 
book  or  hear  the  birds  sing.  It  is  only  in  winter  that 
I  should  like  to  live  in  the  city." 

But  the  pleasant  days  of  Alice's  stay  in  Boston 
passed  rapidly  until  only  two  were  left,  when  Blanch 
said  to  her,  "  I  have  invited  a  few  of  my  friends  here 
to  meet  you  to-night,  and  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor, 
and  that  is,  sing  for  me." 

"  Oh,  please  do  not  ask  that,"  replied  Alice  hastily. 
"  I  do  not  sing  well  enough,  and  fear  that  some  of 
your  friends  might  be  critics,  and  that  would  quite 
upset  me." 

"  But  you  sing  in  church,"  assented  Blanch,  "  and 
that  is  much  harder." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  answered  Alice,  smiling ;  "  not 
one  in  ten  of  those  country  people  know  one  note 
from  another,  and  that  fact  makes  me  indifferent. 
Here  not  only  all  your  people,  but  all  your  friends, 
hear  the  finest  operatic  singers,  and  poor  I  would  cut 
a  sorry  figure  in  contrast." 


338  UNCLE   TEKKY 

"  But  you  will  sing  just  once  to  please  me,  won't 
you  ?  "  pleaded  Blanch. 

"I  will  not  promise,"  was  the  answer;  "I  will 
see  how  many  are  here  and  how  my  courage  holds 
out." 

When  that  evening  came  Blanch  waited  until  Alice 
had  become  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  little 
gathering  and  the  reserve  had  worn  away,  when  she 
went  to  her  and  putting  one  arm  around  her  waist, 
whispered,  "Come,  now,  dear,  just  one  little  song; 
only  one  to  please  me."  At  first  Alice  thought  to 
refuse,  but  somehow  the  pride  that  was  in  her  came 
to  the  rescue,  and  the  feeling  that  she  would  show 
her  friend  that  she  was  not  a  timid  country  girl  gave 
her  the  needed  courage,  and  she  arose  and  stepped 
across  the  room  to  the  grand  piano  that  stood  in  one 
corner.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  a  defiant  curl 
was  on  her  lips,  and  then  without  a  moment's  hesita 
tion  she  seated  herself  and  sang  "  The  Last  Rose  of 
Summer."  She  had  sung  it  many,  many  times  before, 
and  every  trill  and  exquisite  quiver  of  its  wondrous 
pathos  was  as  familiar  to  her  as  the  music  of  the 
brook  where  she  had  played  in  childhood.  I  am  not 
certain  but  some  of  that  brook's  sweet  melody  came 
as  an  inspiration  to  her,  for  now  she  sang  as  she  never 
had  before,  and  to  an  audience  that  listened  entranced. 


SOCIETY  339 

When  the  last  sweet  note  had  passed  her  red  lips  she 
arose  quickly  and  returned  to  her  seat ;  and  then,  had 
she  not  been  so  modest  that  she  dared  not  look  at 
any  one,  she  would  have  seen  two  little  tears  steal  out 
of  Mrs.  Nason's  eyes,  to  be  quickly  brushed  away 
with  a  priceless  bit  of  lace.  Sweet  Alice,  the  mother 
less  little  country  girl,  had  from  that  moment  entered 
the  heart  of  Mrs.  Nason  and  won  a  regard  she  hardly 
realized  then  ;  in  fact,  not  at  all  until  long  afterward. 
When  the  applause  had  subsided  it  was  Frank  that 
next  pleaded. 

"  Won't  you  sing  one  for  me  now,  Miss  Page  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  I  bought  the  song  I  wanted  to-day,"  and 
going  to  the  piano  he  unrolled  and  spread  upon  the 
music  rack  —  "  Ben  Bolt  "  ! 

"  But  I  only  consented  to  sing  once  for  Blanch," 
Alice  replied,  "  and  there  are  others  here  who  I  am 
sure  can  do  much  better." 

"Come,  please,"  he  said  coaxingly,  "just  this  one 
for  me."  And  then  once  more  Alice  touched  the 
keys. 

Back  to  a  simply  furnished  parlor  in  Sandgate,  with 
its  lamp  on  the  piano  and  open  fire  burning  brightly 
as  it  had  one  year  ago,  went  two  of  that  company  in 
thought,  and  maybe  others  there,  whose  youth  had 
been  among  country  scenes,  were  carried  back  to 


340  UNCLE    TEBKY 

them  by  the  singer's  voice,  and  saw  a  byway  school- 
house  "  and  a  shaded  nook  by  a  running  brook,"  in 
fancy ;  or  perhaps  a  little  white  stone  in  some  grass- 
grown  corner,  where,  "obscure  and  alone,"  lay  a 
boyhood's  sweetheart !  For  all  the  pathos  of  our 
lost  youth  trilled  in  the  voice  of  Alice  Page  as 
she  sang  that  old,  old  song  of  the  long  ago.  And 
not  one  in  that  little  audience  but  was  enthralled 
by  the  winsome  witchery  of  her  voice,  and  for  the 
moment  was  young  again  in  thought  and  feeling. 
As  for  Mrs.  Nason,  when  the  guests  had  departed 
she  turned  to  Alice,  and  taking  her  face  in  her 
hands  exclaimed,  "I  want  to  kiss  the  lips  that 
have  brought  tears  to  my  eyes  to-night." 

Sweet  Alice  had  won  her  crown. 

The  last  evening  of  her  visit  she  decided  to  spend 
with  her  brother,  and  when  she  came  to  bid  adieu 
to  her  hostess,  that  much  dreaded  haughty  mother 
had  resolved  herself  into  a  charming  old  lady,  who 
said :  "  Now  I  can  see  why  my  daughter  went  into 
raptures  over  some  one  who  I  hope  will  visit  us 
again  and  stay  much  longer."  It  was  a  graceful 
tribute,  and  one  that  touched  the  motherless  girl  as 
few  words  could. 

"  It  is  odd,  Bertie,"  she  said  to  her  brother  that 
evening,  when  they  were  alone  together,  "  how  differ- 


SOCIETY  341 

rent  people  seem  when  one  comes  to  know  them. 
Now  from  one  or  two  things  which  you  have  said, 
and  an  admission  that  Frank  made  a  year  ago,  I  felt 
I  should  be  sure  to  hate  his  mother,  and  now  I  think 
she  is  perfectly  lovely." 

"So  she  is  to  those  she  likes,"  answered  Albert, 
"  but  if  you  had  not  shown  the  tact  you  have,  my 
dear  sis,  I  am  not  sure  you  would  now  be  praising 
her.  You  carried  her  heart  by  storm  last  evening,  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  you  deserved  it, 
for  I  never  heard  you  sing  so  well." 

"  I  am  glad  I  didn't  break  down,  anyway,"  she 
replied,  "for  when  I  touched  the  piano  my  heart 
seemed  in  my  mouth." 

"  Yes,  and  in  your  voice,  too,"  he  replied  with 
pride,  "  and  that  is  what  carried  us  all  away." 

For  an  hour  they  discussed  the  Nasons,  while 
Albert  noticed  his  sister  avoided  any  mention  of 
Frank,  and  then  he  said :  "  Well,  sis,  which  of  the 
rents  we  have  looked  at  do  you  think  I  best  engage 
and  when  will  you  be  ready  to  move  ?  " 

Alice  was  silent  and  for  a  few  minutes  she  pursed 
her  lips  and  looked  at  the  chilly  shipwreck  scene 
near  her  as  if  it  contained  a  revelation. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure,"  she  answered  finally,  "  that  we 
should  make  the  change  at  present.  If  I  were  certain 


342  UNCLE   TERRY 

your  beautiful  waif  of  the  sea  would  adhere  to  her 
filial  resolution,  it  would  be  different,  but  I  am  not. 
If  you  secure  this  legacy  for  her  that  you  told  me 
about  and  she  donates  it  to  those  old  people,  as  you 
say  she  intends  to,  why  the  next  thing  will  be  an 
invitation  to  my  dear  brother's  wedding,  and  that  is 
one  reason  why  I  hesitate  to  make  this  change.  An 
other  is  that  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  good  for  Aunt 
Susan.  She  says  slie  is  ready  and  willing,  but  when 
she  has  left  all  the  associations  of  her  life  behind,  she 
will  just  sit  and  grieve  her  poor  old  heart  away  in 
silence." 

Albert  did  not  and  could  not  answer  all  these  sur 
mises,  and  to  a  certain  extent  he  felt  that  his  sister 
was  right.  He  certainly  meant  to  coax  Telly  to 
marry  him,  even  if  she  insisted  on  spending  most  of 
her  time  where  she  felt  her  duty  called  her.  Then  he 
had  felt  all  along  that  Alice  might  be  persuaded  to 
become  one  of  the  Nason  family,  though  his  Thanks 
giving  visit  had  about  dispelled  that  idea.  As  for 
Aunt  Susan,  if  the  proposed  change  was  not  likely  to 
be  a  permanent  one,  it  would  not  be  best  to  make  it  at 
all.  Deliberating  thus  he  sat  in  silence  for  a  time,  and 
leisurely  puffed  smoke  rings  in  the  air  as  he  studied 
the  ceiling.  Finally  an  idea  came  to  him. 

"  My  dear  sister,"  he  said,   "  have  you  considered 


SOCIETY  343 

or  do  you  consider  Frank  in  your  calculations  ?  and 
if  so,  where  does  he  come  in,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

Alice's  blue  eyes  assumed  an  expression  like  unto 
a  pansy,  and  her  face  the  placidity  of  a  mill-pond  as 
she  answered,  "  I  had  quite  forgotten  his  existence  ! " 


CHAPTER   XL 


A  WOMAN'S  heart,  as  transitory  as  the  wind,  as 
evanescent  as  the  rainbow,  and  as  tender  as  spring 
violets,  is  hard  to  portray  with  pen,  and  for  that  rea 
son  the  summer-day  nature  of  Alice  Page  is  but 
faintly  outlined.  When  on  the  morning  of  her  de 
parture  from  Boston  she  stood  beside  the  train  ex 
changing  the  usual  good-by  words  with  her  brother, 
she  was  surprised  at  being  joined  by  Blanch  and 
Frank.  The  former  brought  her  a  tasty  basket  of 
lunch,  sent  with  her  mother's  compliments,  and  the 
latter  an  elaborate  bouquet  of  flowers. 

"  I  want  to  kiss  you  good-by,"  said  Blanch,  and 
when  the  two  had  embraced  and  Frank  had  uttered  a 
suitable  speech,  Alice  kissed  her  brother  and  took 
her  seat.  No  one  apparently  noticed  that  Frank  was 
not  on  the  platform  when  the  train  started,  and  when 
it  was  well  under  way  Alice  was  astonished  to  see 
him  enter  the  car.  She  was,  as  may  be  expected, 
feeling  rather  blue,  and  the  sight  of  his  cheerful  face 
was  a  pleasant  surprise. 


"YES   OR  NO"  345 

"  You  will  not  object  to  my  company  home,  will 
you  ?  "  he  asked  at  once  ;  "  I  thought  you  might  be 
lonesome,  and  as  I  have  not  had  a  chance  to  talk  to 
you  since  you  came  to  Boston,  I  decided  to  go  up 
with  you.  I  can  come  back  on  the  night  train,"  he 
added  rather  apologetically,  "  or  if  you  prefer  to  ride 
alone,  I  can  get  off  at  the  next  station." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  very  glad  of  your  company,"  she 
replied  sincerely,  "  and  it  was  good  of  you  to  think  of 
it.  It  is  a  long  ride  and  I  have  had  such  a  nice  time 
I  should  have  been  disconsolate.  You  did  not  know," 
she  added  archly,  "  that  one  reason  I  came  to  Boston 
was  to  look  at  rents.  Bert  wants  us  to  come  here 
and  keep  house  for  him,  Aunt  Susan  and  me." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  do  it  ?  "  put  in  Frank,  with 
sudden  interest ;  "  I  hope  so,  for  that  would  give  me  a 
chance  to  take  you  to  the  theatres." 

"  No,  the  plan  is  off  for  the  present,"  she  answered ; 
"  not  but  that  I  would  like  to,  but  for  many  reasons, 
one  of  which  is  Aunt  Susan,  we  think  it  is  not  best." 

Frank  was  a  little  ill  at  ease,  and  in  a  way  did  not 
feel  certain  he  was  welcome.  Even  without  his  sis 
ter's  advice  he  would  not  have  considered  it  good 
taste  to  press  his  suit  while  Alice  was  their  guest. 
But  now  it  occurred  to  him  that  to  escort  her  home 
would  be  a  wise  move.  "  By  all  means  go  back  with 


346  UNCLE   TERRY 

her,"  Blanch  had  replied  when  he  broached  his  idea, 
"and  by  the  time  you  have  reached  Sandgate  you 
will  know  where  you  stand  in  your  schoolma'am's 
feelings.  She  knows,  too,  how  mamma  feels  towards 
her,  so  that  obstacle  is  removed.  And  if  there  is  any 
hope  for  you,  you  will  know  it  soon ;  only  as  I  told 
you  once  before,  wait  until  the  right  moment  comes, 
and  then  woo  her  quickly  and  courageously." 

For  an  hour  they  trundled  along  through  the 
snow-clad  country  chatting  commonplaces,  and  then 
Alice  said :  "  Did  you  meet  the  island  girl  last 
summer  that  you  told  me  Bert  had  fallen  in  love 
with?" 

"  Only  once,"  he  replied.  "  Bert  invited  her  and 
the  old  lady  on  board  the  4  Gypsy '  and  introduced 
them.  They  remained  only  long  enough  to  look  the 
yacht  over.  I  left  that  day  for  Bethlehem,  and  as 
you  know,  came  to  Sandgate."  His  eyes  were  on  her 
as  he  said  this,  and  he  noticed  that  an  added  color 
came  to  her  face. 

"What  did  you  think  of  this  girl?"  asked  Alice 
hastily ;  "  tell  me  what  she  looks  like  —  is  she  hand 
some?" 

It  is  a  woman's  usual  question,  and  a  hard  one  for 
a  man  to  answer,  especially  if  the  one  who  asks  it  is 
the  girl  he  adores. 


347 


"  She  has  a  beautiful  figure,"  he  answered,  "  and 
eyes  like  yours,  which  you  know  are  what  I  admire ; 
only  they  are  not  so  full  of  mischief.  They  have  a 
far-away  look  that  makes  you  think  her  thoughts  are 
a  thousand  miles  away." 

"How  was  she  dressed?"  was  the  next  query. 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  was  the  answer; 
"  she  might  have  worn  calico  for  all  I  could  tell.  The 
only  thing  I  can  remember  is  that  her  dress  was  tight- 
fitting  and  very  plain." 

Alice  smiled. 

"  Those  far-away  eyes  must  have  entranced  you, 
your  description  is  so  lucid,"  she  replied  sarcastically. 
Then  she  added:  "How  long  did  Bert  stay  there 
after  you  came  away  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  days,"  replied  Frank ;  "  I  never  asked 
him.  I  told  him  to  keep  and  use  the  'Gypsy'  as 
long  as  he  wanted  and  then  I  cut  stick  for  Blanch  and 
—  Sandgate." 

He  seemed  to  dwell  upon  the  little  outing,  and 
Alice,  noticing  it,  and  evasive  ever,  fought  shy  of  the 
subject.  She  saw  also  that  he  was  not  aware  of  her 
brother's  infatuation  and  from  motives  of  delicacy 
forbore  further  questioning. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  my  haughty  mother  now?" 
he  asked,  "  if  that  is  a  fair  question." 


348  UNCLE   TERRY 

It  was  not  exactly  a  fair  question,  but  conscious  of 
the  fact  that  she  had  tried  to  quiz  him,  Alice  answered 
it  frankly. 

"  I  think  she  is  the  most  gracefully  charming  hostess 
I  ever  met,"  she  replied,  "  and  you  ought  to  be  proud 
of  her.  In  a  way,  I  think  you  conveyed  a  wrong 
impression  of  her  to  me  the  first  time  I  met  you,  and 
it  has  lasted  ever  since." 

"I  am  sorry  if. I  did,"  replied  Frank  honestly,  "I 
did  not  mean  to.  Mother  knows  how  to  be  very  nice 
to  any  one  she  likes  and  very  freezing  to  any  one  she 
doesn't.  She  fell  in  love  with  you  the  night  you 
sang,  and  I  knew  she  would.  That  is  why  I  almost 
begged  you  on  my  knees  to  sing,"  he  added  earnestly, 
"  so  please  do  not  scold  me  for,  as  you  say,  giving  a 
wrong  impression." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  scold  you,  Frank,"  she  replied, 
"and  if  I  hurt  you,  please  forgive  me."  It  was  the 
first  time  she  had  ever  used  his  first  name  and  it  made 
his  heart  beat  high  with  hope.  He  would  have  there 
and  then  whispered  of  that  hope,  had  it  not  been  for 
his  sister's  advice  to  wait  for  the  right  moment,  and 
it  was  wise  that  he  heeded  that  advice.  When  noon 
came  he  bought  a  pitcher  of  coffee  all  prepared,  at  a 
railroad  lunch  counter,  and  a  cup  and  saucer,  then 
spread  a  newspaper  between  them,  and  over  it  a  nap- 


349 


kin,  and  while  she  ate  he  held  the  cup  and  shared  the 
edibles.  It  was  not  a  gracefully  eaten  lunch,  and  yet 
it  served  to  brush  away  much  of  the  restraint  that 
lay  between  them.  When  the  hills  of  Sandgate  were 
visible  he  said,  "  I  have  an  hour  before  the  returning 
train,  and  just  time  enough  to  see  you  safely  home." 

Alice  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 

"  And  that  is  your  idea  of  my  hospitality,"  she  ex 
claimed,  "  to  let  you  go  away  like  that  ?  The  morn 
ing  train  is  the  earliest  one  you  can  escape  on,  and  if 
I  am  not  good  enough  company  for  you  this  evening, 
you  can  go  and  call  on  Abby  Miles." 

And  what  a  surprised  and  glad  old  lady  Aunt  Susan 
was  when  the  two  stepped  off  the  train,  and  how 
vividly  Frank  recalled  one  year  ago  when  he  and  Al 
bert  met  Alice  at  this  same  cheerless  depot  with  its 
one  small  waiting-room  and  adjoining  shed !  The 
same  staid  horse  was  hitched  outside,  and  as  he  bun 
dled  his  two  charges  into  the  sleigh  and  officiously 
took  the  reins,  while  Aunt  Susan  lamented  because 
she  had  not  known  he  was  coming,  "so's  to  hev 
suthin'  fit  to  eat  in  the  house,"  he  felt  he  was  master 
of  the  situation. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  Aunt  Susan,"  he  said  with  easy 
familiarity ;  "  I  am  not  a  visitor,  I  am  a  big  brother 
escorting  a  lone  sister  home." 


350  UNCLE   TEBRY 

And  how  kindly  that  wrinkled  face  beamed  on  him 
behind  her  spectacles  while  he  insisted  that  she  stand 
by  and  let  him  unharness  and  see  to  the  horse  as  she 
directed!  And  how  willingly  he  carried  baskets  of 
wood  in  and  started  the  parlor  fire,  and  joked  and 
jested  with  her  regarding  his  ability  as  an  assistant ! 

It  warmed  her  old  heart  in  a  wonderful  way,  for 
her  husband  and  only  son  had  long  years  ago  been 
laid  at  rest  in  the  village  "  God's  acre,"  and  it 
seemed  so  nice  to  her  to  be  noticed  at  all. 

Then  the  best  blue  china  was  none  too  good  for 
this  event,  and  the  hot  biscuits  must  be  made  and  a 
jar  of  peach  preserves  opened,  some  cold  tongue 
sliced,  and  by  the  time  Alice  had  changed  her  garb 
and  appeared  in  a  house-dress,  he  and  Aunt  Susan 
were  the  best  of  friends.  It  was  all  an  odd  and  new 
experience  to  him,  and  so  anxious  was  he  to  win  the 
favor  of  those  two  people  that  he  did  not  even  stop 
to  think  what  any  of  his  club  friends  would  say  could 
they  have  peeped  into  the  old-fashioned  country  home 
and  seen  him  helping  Aunt  Susan.  Even  Alice  had 
to  laugh  when  she  saw  what  he  was  doing. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  could  make  yourself  so  use 
ful,"  she  observed,  "for  even  my  beloved  brother  was 
never  known  to  help  aunty  set  the  table." 

But  she  knew  well  enough  what  inspired  him,  and 


351 


when  supper  was  over  he  began  asking  her  all  manner 
of  questions  about  her  school,  and  when  she  meant  to 
open  it  again,  how  the  old  miller  was,  and  what  had 
become  of  the  boat,  and  how  the  mill-pond  looked  in 
winter,  and  had  she  been  there  since  the  day  she 
gathered  lilies.  "  Always  back  to  that  spot,"  she 
thought,  and  colored  a  little. 

Then  later  when  she  opened  the  piano  she  knew 
just  what  songs  he  expected,  but,  disposed  now  to 
tease  him,  sang  just  their  opposites,  and  all  the  while 
the  clock  ticked  the  happy  hours  away. 

It  was  ten  ere  he  could  coax  her  to  favor  him  with 
one  that  suited  his  mood,  and  when  he  asked  her  for 
"  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer "  she  exclaimed  with  a 
pretty  pout  : 

"  I  do  not  want  to  sing  that,  Frank ;  it  reminds  me 
how  scared  I  was  when  I  sang  it  last." 

44  But  you  brought  tears  into  most  of  our  eyes  that 
night,"  he  answered,  "  so  you  may  well  feel  proud  of 
your  effort." 

"  Do  you  want  to  weep  again  ?  "  she  asked  archly, 
looking  up  at  him  and  smiling ;  "  if  you  say  you  do, 
I  will  sing  it." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  and  then  hesitating  a  moment 
added,  "  I  do  not  feel  that  way  to-night.  I  may  when 
train-time  comes  to-morrow." 


352  UNCLE   TERRY 

Her  eyes  fell,  for  she  saw  what  was  in  his  thoughts, 
and  rising  quickly,  like  a  scared  bird  anxious  to 
escape,  turned  away. 

But  a  strong  hand  clasped  one  of  hers,  and  then 
she  heard  him  say,  "Am  I  to  go  away  to-morrow 
happy  or  miserable  ?  You  know  what  I  came  up 
here  to  ask.  You  know  what  I  have  worked  and 
studied  and  waited  for  all  the  long  year  since  first  I 
saw  you,  and  for  whom  I  have  tried  to  become  a  use 
ful  man  in  the  world  instead  of  an  idler.  It  was  to 
win  you  and  to  ask  this  that  I  came  here  to-day." 

Then  she  felt  an  arm  clasp  her  waist,  and  a  voice 
that  trembled  a  little  say  : 

"  Answer  me,  sweet  Alice,  is  it  yes  or  no  ?  " 

And  then  he  felt  her  supple  form  yield  a  trifle,  and 
as  he  gathered  her  close  in  his  arms  her  proud  head 
touched  his  shoulder. 

He  had  won  his  sweet  Alice. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

AN   HEIRESS 

THE  winter  had  passed  and  March  returned  when 
one  morning  Albert  received  a  bulky  envelope  bear 
ing  the  Stockholm  postmark,  and  containing  numerous 
legal  papers  and  a  lengthy  letter,  all  of  which  imparted 
information  both  surprising  and  pleasant.  So  inter 
esting  was  it  that  he  did  not  notice  Frank  when  he 
came  in,  or  even  hear  his  greeting,  and  well  might 
Albert  be  keenly  absorbed  in  those  documents,  for 
they  made  him  the  emissary  privileged  to  lay  at  the 
feet  of  the  girl  he  loved  —  a  fortune  ! 

No  more  need  she  devote  herself  to  her  foster- 
parents  for  many  years  to  come,  and  no  more  need 
Uncle  Terry  putter  over  lobster  traps  in  rain  or  shine, 
or  good,  patient  Aunt  Lissy  bake,  wash,  and  mend, 
year  in  and  year  out. 

Here  was  enough  and  more  than  they  could  spend 
in  all  the  years  that  were  left  them,  and  what  a  charm 
ing  privilege  it  would  be  to  him  to  place  in  her  loving 
hand  the  means  to  make  glad  and  bless  those  kindly 


354  UNCLE   TERRY 

people  who,  all  unasked,  had  cared  for  her  as  their 
own ;  and  what  a  sweet  door  of  hope  it  opened  for 
him  !  He  could  hardly  wait  for  the  moment  when  he 
should  say  to  her,  "  Here  is  the  golden  key  that  un 
locks  the  world  for  you  and  yours." 

Then  for  the  first  time  he  noticed  Frank  watching 
him  with  smiling  interest. 

"Well,"  remarked  that  cheerful  young  man,  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you  emerge  from  your  trance  and  return 
to  earth  again.  I've  said  good  morning  twice,  and 
watched  you  for  half  an  hour,  and  you  didn't  even 
know  I  was  in  the  room." 

When  Frank  had  perused  the  most  interesting  of 
the  documents  he  gave  a  low  whistle,  and  with  his 
rather  startling  faculty  for  jumping  at  conclusions, 
said: 

"  Now,  methinks,  somebody  will  be  taking  a  wed 
ding-trip  to  the  Land  of  the  Midnight  Sun  in  the 
near  future.  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear  boy,  and 
you  can  have  the  '  Gypsy '  when  you  are  ready." 
Then  he  added  shyly,  "  Maybe  it  can  be  arranged  so 
that  there  can  be  four  in  the  party." 

The  next  morning  Albert,  bearing  the  legal  evi 
dence  of  Telly's  heritage,  and  with  buoyant  heart,  left 
for  Southport.  The  day  was  dark,  and  when,  late  in 
the  afternoon,  the  little  boat  bearing  him  as  sole  pas- 


AN   HEIRESS  355 

senger  halted  at  the  head  of  the  island  and  he  saw 
the  smiling  face  and  muffled  form  of  Uncle  Terry 
standing  on  the  wharf  alone,  he  could  hardly  wait  to 
leap  ashore. 

"  Bless  yer  heart,  Mr.  Page,"  exclaimed  Uncle 
Terry,  grasping  both  of  Albert's  hands  in  his,  "  but 
the  sight  o'  ye  is  good  fur  sore  eyes." 

"  And  how  are  Aunt  Lissy  and  Telly? "  responded 
Albert,  smiling  into  the  glowing  face  of  the  old 
man. 

"  Oh,  they're  purty  middlin',  an'  they'll  be  powerful 
glad  to  see  ye,  too.  It's  been  a  long  time  since  ye 
left  us." 

And  how  vividly  at  this  moment  came  to  Albert 
every  detail  of  his  last  parting  from  Telly,  framed  as 
she  was  then  in  a  background  of  scarlet  and  brown 
foliage  !  He  could  see  her  as  he  last  saw  her,  stand 
ing  there  with  bowed  head  and  tear-wet  face,  and 
feel  a  tinge  of  the  keen  pain  that  pulled  at  his  own 
heart-strings  then.  He  could  almost  hear  the  sad 
rustle  of  the  autumn  winds  in  the  dry  leaves  all  about 
that  had  added  a  pathos  to  their  parting. 

And  now  only  a  few  miles  separated  them ! 

But  the  way  was  long  and  Uncle  Terry's  old  horse 
slow,  and  the  road  in  the  hollows  a  quagmire  of  half- 
frozen  mud.  Gone  were  all  the  leaves  of  the  scrub 


356  UNCLE   TERKY 

oaks,  and  beneath  the  thickets  of  spruce  still  remained 
a  white  pall  of  snow.  A  half  gale  was  blowing  over 
the  island,  and  when  they  reached  the  hilltop  that 
overlooked  the  Cape,  it  was  so  dark  that  only  scattered 
lights  showed  where  the  houses  were.  When  they 
halted  in  front  of  Uncle  Terry's  home  the  booming  of 
the  giant  billows  filled  the  night  air,  and  by  the  gleam 
of  the  lighthouse  rays  Albert  could  see  the  spray 
tossed  high  over  the  point  rocks. 

"  Go  right  in,"  said  Uncle  Terry,  "  an'  don't  stop 
ter  knock ;  ye'll  find  the  wimmin  folks  right  glad  ter 
see  ye,  an'  I'll  take  keer  o'  the  hoss." 

With  Telly  it  had  been  a  long,  dreary,  desolate, 
monotonous  winter.  Her  only  consolation  had  been 
the  few  letters  from  the  one  and  only  man  who  had 
ever  uttered  a  word  of  love  to  her,  and  how  eagerly 
they  had  been  read  again  and  again,  and  then  treas 
ured  as  priceless  keepsakes,  he  little  realized.  Neither 
did  he  know  how  many  times  she  had  lived  over  each 
and  every  hour  they  had  passed  together,  and  re 
called  every  word  and  look  and  smile. 

At  times,  when  the  cold  desolation  of  winter  was  at 
its  worst,  she  had  half  regretted  the  sacrifice  she  had 
made,  and  only  maidenly  reserve  had  kept  her  from 
writing  him  that  her  loneliness  and  heart-hunger  were 
more  than  she  could  bear. 


AN   HEIRESS  357 

She  had  no  inkling  of  his  coming  on  that  dark  and 
tempestuous  evening,  and  when  Uncle  Terry  bade 
him  enter  the  house,  she  was  alone  in  the  sitting-room 
laying  the  table,  while  Aunt  Lissy  was  in  the  kitchen 
cooking  supper.  And  then,  just  as  she  paused  to 
listen  to  the  thunder  of  the  giant  waves,  so  near,  she 
heard  the  click  of  the  front  door  latch,  and  stepping 
quickly  into  the  little  hall,  as  the  door  slowly  opened, 
she  met  the  man  who  for  five  long  months  had  never 
been  absent  from  her  thoughts  one  moment. 

A  glad  cry  escaped  her,  and  then  — 

But  such  a  moment  is  too  sacred  for  words ;  only  it 
must  be  said  it  was  fortunate  for  both  that  Aunt 
Lissy  was  in  the  kitchen. 

When  that  worthy  soul  came  in  and  greeted  Albert 
as  cordially  almost  as  a  mother,  if  she  noticed  Telly's 
red  face  and  neck  no  one  was  the  wiser,  and  maybe 
it  was  due  to  the  cheerful  open  fire  after  all. 

And  what  a  happy  little  party  that  was  when 
Uncle  Terry  came  in,  and  after  Telly,  as  usual,  had 
brought  his  house  coat  and  slippers,  and  they  were 
seated  at  the  table !  What  mattered  that  the  ocean 
surges  thundered  so  near,  and  at  times  tossed  their 
angry  tears  against  the  windows  !  Inside  was  light, 
and  warmth,  and  love,  and  trust,  and  all  that  is  holiest 
and  best  in  human  emotions. 


358  UNCLE   TERKY 

And  when  the  meal  was  eaten,  Uncle  Terry  and  Al 
bert  smoked  and  talked  while  the  fire  burned  bright, 
and  the  little  clock  on  the  mantel  ticked  the  time 
away  as  clocks  are  bound  to  do,  no  matter  how  con 
tent  we  are. 

When  Albert  had  asked  about  the  Widow  Leach 
and  Bascom,  Deacon  Oaks  and  Mandy,  heard  all  the 
little  gossip  of  the  Cape,  and  given  his  isolated  friends 
a  brief  synopsis  of  current  events  in  the  great  world 
of  which  they  could  hardly  be  considered  a  part,  and 
the  evening  was  two-thirds  past,  he  said : 

"  Now,  my  good  friends,  I  have  a  little  surprise  in 
store  for  you,"  and  drawing  from  an  inside  pocket  a 
bulky  envelope,  rising  and  crossing  the  room  to  where 
Telly  sat,  he  handed  it  to  her  with  the  remark  : 

"  I  have  the  honor  and  exquisite  pleasure  of  pre 
senting  to  you,  Miss  Etelka  Peterson,  sole  surviving 
heiress  and  descendant  of  one  Eric  Peterson,  of  Stock 
holm,  your  paternal  grandfather,  these  legal  docu 
ments  certifying  to  your  inheritance  of  about  one  hun 
dred  and  thirty  thousand  dollars,  besides  various 
pieces  of  real  estate  as  yet  unappraised." 

The  effect  of  this  announcement  upon  the  three 
listeners  was  unique  and  not  exactly  what  Albert  had 
anticipated.  For  an  instant  they  seemed  dazed,  and 
Telly,  holding  the  big  envelope  gingerly,  as  if  it  might 


AN  HEIRESS  359 

bite  her,  stared  at  Albert  with  a  look  of  fright.  Aunt 
Lissy  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  "  Good  Lord-a- 
massy  "  came  from  her  in  an  awed  whisper. 

"  Thank  God,  little  girlie,  you've  got  yer  dues  at 
last,"  was  Uncle  Terry's  remark,  and  then,  as  the 
probable  end  of  Telly's  life  with  them  cast  its  shadow 
athwart  his  vision,  he  bowed  his  face  upon  his  hands 
and  added  in  a  pained  voice  :  "  I  knowed  it  'ud  come 
an'  we'd  lose  ye,  soon  or  late." 

The  pathos  of  his  act  and  words,  with  the  over 
whelming  disclosure,  seemed  to  force  upon  Telly  the 
belief  that  in  some  unknown  way  it  meant  the  ending 
of  her  present  home  life.  For  one  instant  she  looked 
at  him,  and  then  the  tide  of  emotion  swept  her  to  his 
side  and  kneeling  there  she  thrust  the  envelope  into 
his  hands  and  clasped  his  arm. 

"I  won't  take  it,  father,"  she  said  quickly,  "not 
one  penny  of  it !  It's  all  yours,  and  I'll  never  leave 
you  so  long  as  you  live,  and  no  one  can  make  me !  " 
Then  as  the  tide  ebbed,  her  head  sank  upon  his  knee 
and  she  began  to  sob. 

"Thar  ain't  no  cause  fur  worryin'  'bout  that  yit, 
girlie,"  he  answered,  placing  one  hand  on  her  bowed 
head,  "  an'  no  need  fur  ye  to  leave  us  'thout  ye  mind 
to.  We  want  ye  allus,  long  as  we  kin  keep  ye, 
make  sure."  Then  noting  the  dumfounded  look  on 


360  UNCLE  TERRY 

Albert's  face  he  added,  "Ye  mustn't  mind  Telly's 
ways,  Mr.  Page,  it's  upset  her  a  little  an'  made  her 
histeriky.  She  don't  quite  understand,  yit,  what  it 
all  means.  She  ain't  much  used  ter  havin'  a  fortin 
drapped  in  her  lap." 

To  Albert  the  climax  was  not  what  he  anticipated. 
If  this  heritage  did  not  relieve  her  sense  of  filial  duty, 
he  thought,  what  chance  would  his  love  have  ?  But 
Uncle  Terry  was  wiser  than  the  rest. 

"Don't  mind  what  I  said,  girlie,"  he  continued, 
stroking  her  bowed  head  and  looking  into  the  slowly 
dying  fire  as  if  it  contained  a  prophecy.  "It  was  an 
inadvartance."  And  then  rising  and  lifting  the  girl 
tenderly,  he  added,  "  We'd  best  go  to  bed  now,  Lissy, 
an'  mebbe  Mr.  Page,  bein'  a  lawyer,  can  'splain 
matters  to  Telly." 

When  they  had  left  the  room  Albert  seated  himself 
on  the  sofa  to  which  the  girl  had  gone,  and  said :  "  I 
am  a  trifle  puzzled  and  a  little  disappointed,  Telly,  at 
the  way  you  feel  about  this  inheritance.  It  is  right 
fully  yours  and  will  enable  you  to  do  much  for  the 
future  comfort  of  those  you  are  devoted  to.  I  had 
hoped,  also,  it  would  relieve  your  feeling  of  obligation 
a  little." 

"No  money  can  do  that,"  she  answered  quickly, 
*<  and  all  this  won't  be  worth  to  father  the  care  he  has 


AN   HEIRESS  361 

grown  accustomed  to  from  me.  It  was  his  feeling 
that  I  was  likely  to  leave  him,  though,  that  upset 
me,  and  then  that  name  you  called  me  by  hurt  a 
little." 

"Still  the  same  Chinese  wall  of  filial  duty," 
thought  Albert,  and  growing  desperate  at  the  pros 
pect  of  possible  years  of  waiting  and  heart-hunger  he 
continued : 

"  But  won't  this  money  do  more  for  them  than  you 
can,  Telly  ?  Is  there  any  need  of  his  remaining  here 
to  putter  over  lobster  traps  and  drive  a  wagon,  rain 
or  shine  ?  He  is  getting  too  old  for  that,  anyway. 
Why  not  build  a  home  for  them  in  Boston,  or  better 
still,  share  ours  there  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  suggestion  of  what  was  nearest  his 
heart,  and  a  flush  came  over  Telly's  face. 

"  We  haven't  a  home  there  yet,"  she  answered, 
turning  her  face  away. 

"  But  we  will  have,  darling,"  he  answered  quickly, 
seizing  the  opening,  "and  as  soon  as  you  consent  I 
shall  begin  to  make  it  ready.  It  is  folly,"  he  added 
hurriedly,  as  if  to  forestall  any  negation,  "  for  us  to 
go  on  this  way  any  longer.  I  want  you,  darling,  and 
I  want  a  home.  Life  to  me,  with  you  buried  here, 
is  only  desolation,  and  how  much  so  to  you,  the  past 
five  months  can  only  tell.  I  know  how  you  feel 


362  UNCLE    TERRY 

toward  these  good  people,  and  your  care  for  them 
shall  be  my  care." 

Once  more  Telly  hid  her  face  behind  her  hands, 
the  better  to  think,  perhaps,  or  to  hide  rebellious 
tears.  And  now  she  felt  herself  gathered  within 
strong  arms  and  a  hand  making  both  hers  prisoners, 
and  as  she  yielded  a  little  to  his  clasp  he  whispered : 
"  Do  not  say  '  no '  again,  Telly  !  Do  not  rob  yourself 
and  me  of  love  and  home  and  happiness  any  longer ! 
Make  what  plans  for  them  you  wish ;  do  as  you  will 
with  your  heritage ;  all  I  plead  for  is  you.  Must  I 
go  back  to-morrow  happy  or  miserable  ?  "  It  was  an 
eloquent  plea,  and  the  last  suggestion  of  the  morrow's 
parting  won  the  victory,  for  as  he  paused,  holding 
her  close  while  he  waited  for  her  answer,  only  listen 
ing  love  heard  it  whispered. 

And  outside,  the  billows  that  years  before  tossed 
her  ashore,  and  had  woven  their  monotone  of  sadness 
into  her  life,  still  tolled  their  requiem,  but  she  heard 
them  not.  She  had  entered  the  enchanted  castle  of 
illusions. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE  PATHOS   OF   LIFE 

WHEN  June  had  again  clad  Sandgate's  hills  and 
village  with  green,  and  spangled  its  meadows  with 
daisies,  there  occurred  two  events  of  sacred  import  to 
four  young  people,  but  of  little  interest  to  the  rest  of 
the  world. 

The  first  was  a  wedding  in  the  village  church 
where  the  sweet  voice  of  Alice  Page  had  oft  been 
heard,  and  where  now  as  a  bride  she  walked  timidly 
to  the  altar. 

Her  pupils,  aided  by  their  parents,  had  turned  the 
church  into  a  bower  of  green,  brightened  by  every 
colored  flower  that  grew  in  field  or  garden.  Even 
the  old  mill-pond  contributed  its  share,  and  the  altar 
was  white  with  lilies.  Almost  every  resident  of  the 
town  was  present,  and  the  aged  miller  sat  in  one 
corner  and  watched  with  wistful  eyes.  The  Nason 
family,  with  Aunt  Susan  and  Albert,  shared  the  front 
pew,  and  the  little  girl  who  once  upon  a  time  had 
said,  "  Pleath  may  I  kith  you,  teacher,"  was  accorded 


364  UNCLE  TERRY 

the  proud  privilege  of  strewing  roses  and  violets 
along  the  aisle  in  front  of  the  bride. 

When  the  parting  came,  Aunt  Susan  made  a  brave 
effort  to  bear  up  until  the  train  carried  the  wedding- 
party  away,  and  the  little  miss  who  scattered  flowers 
was  inconsolable  after  Alice  kissed  her  good-by.  The 
old  miller  returned  to  his  toil  with  a  heavy  heart,  for 
he  had  known  Alice  since,  as  a  child,  he  held  her  up 
that  she  might  see  the  wheel  go  around  and  laugh 
and  crow  at  its  splashing.  Many  times  each  summer 
she  had  come  there  to  gather  lilies,  and  now  she  had 
gone,  perhaps  never  to  return.  One  by  one  the 
summer  days  would  come  and  go,  the  mill-stone 
rumble,  the  big  wheel  splash,  the  old  boat  float  idly 
beneath  its  willow,  and  the  water-lilies  bloom  and 
fade ;  for  sweet  Alice  would  come  no  more  to  pluck 
them. 

Two  weeks  later  occurred  the  other  event,  when 
the  "  Gypsy "  steamed  into  the  Cape  harbor  and  a 
select  party  became  the  guests  of  honor  at  Uncle 
Terry's  home.  Long  tables  decked  with  flowers  and 
loaded  with  the  best  that  Aunt  Lissy  could  prepare 
stood  under  the  trees  in  front ;  the  little  porch  was  a 
bower  of  ferns  and  clusters  of  red  bunch-berries,  and 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  that  dwelt  on  the  island 
was  there. 


THE   PATHOS   OF   LIFE  365 

Then  after  Albert  and  Telly  had  halted  in  the  fern- 
covered  porch  to  utter  the  simple  but  sacred  words 
that  bound  them  for  life,  the  gladsome  party  gathered 
and  made  merry  at  the  tables. 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  west  ere  Telly  kissed  the 
tear-wet  faces  of  Uncle  Terry  and  Aunt  Lissy  and  the 
"  Gypsy "  sailed  away.  Far  to  seaward  the  purple 
line  of  coming  night  was  slowly  creeping  in,  and  side 
by  side  on  the  little  knoll  where  stood  a  low  white 
headstone,  those  two  sat  and  watched  her  pass  out  of 
their  lives.  When  only  the  wide  ocean  was  visible  and 
the  line  of  shadow  had  crept  up  to  the  wave-washed 
rocks  beneath  them,  Uncle  Terry  arose. 

"  We'd  best  go  in,  Lissy,"  he  said. 

And  looking  into  his  saddened  face  she  saw  that 
she  must  lead  him,  for  he  was  blinded  with  tears. 


THE   END. 


THIS   BOOK   IS   DUE   ON   THE   LAST  DATE 
STAMPED   BELOW 


RENEWED   BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-Series  458 


N9   858020 

PS2449 

Munn,   C.C.  M45 

Uncle  Terry.  U5 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


